


tell me, why can't this be easy?

by rikiyuu



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, F/M, Family Reunions, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, including the archive warning so thank you for understanding, tags might change in the future as i work on chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:54:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 75,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27333757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rikiyuu/pseuds/rikiyuu
Summary: I don't know what you want from me, what you're looking for, what I'm supposed to be.Maybe I just don't wanna see, what I mean to you, what you mean to me.❧Moments and memories of one Mocha Macchiato and her time in Eorzea as a Warrior of Light.
Kudos: 13





	1. eyes wide open

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This series is based on a 30 day prompt done in honor of nanowrimo. It's been a while, man- I hope to find my pace and voice by the end of this, and whip the habit back into shape!

Her eyes shot open with the sharp intake of breath. Mocha wasn’t sure what happened there—did her body forget to breathe? Was she so out of it what she hadn’t realized that her body needed air to function, to allow her to live?

Her fingers skirted across the soft cotton surface of the cot she laid in before attempting to sit up, not noticing that there was a large, plush comforter atop of her body. She blinked once, no— _twice_ , to make sure she was sound and coherent. There was a lot she didn’t seem to notice, body still stirring awake and the clouds of confusion and sleep fogging her mind still.

Mocha lifted her left hand to her head. There was a bandage around her hand from her knuckles to half her forearm, and she was sure that was something she didn’t remember being there. There was no pain to be felt save for the stiffness in her fingers that caused the occasional popping of joints to be heard as she wiggled her fingers around.

She blinked again. And again, and again.

Something was…still not right. The very same left hand skirted across her face, tips of her fingers tracing along her scales and dipping along the lines that carved intricate details on them. She settled on the left side of her face, an unknown texture covering a large part of her face. Her fingers skirted across lines that weaved and a soft woven surface that covered her eye. It felt like…a bandage.

She squinted her right eye, becoming very aware of what she could and could not blink as her chest began to rise at a steadily increasing pace.

“Shite, didn’t realize ye was awake, Mocha.”

A voice from the other side of the room thankfully disrupted Mocha’s thoughts, causing the auri to seek the source of the noise. That voice was Ludovic’s—one of her companions here at the free company she was a part of. She craned her head in a desperate attempt to capture her companion in her eyesight (and beginning to realize the difficulty in only having half your eyesight working at this time). He was leaning against the frame of the medical room, hands tucked into his dark blue capris, a look of worry and relief on his face.

He began his walk to the left side of the cot before stopping suddenly. Mocha raised an eyebrow at (what parts of him) she could see, watching him retrace his steps and make a beeline for her _right_ side instead. It was a simple gesture, but Mocha was very much appreciating not having to rotate her head at such a violent angle to have to look at him.

“'ow're ye feeling?” He asked, pulling the small wooden chair that was resting against the wall and sitting on it. Ludovic’s eyes scanned her, the uncharacteristically concerned look still on his face.

“I…I can’t see through my left eye.” Mocha responded in a near whisper, fingers slowly gripping tight the comforter that was resting on her lap.

“Aye, we uh, bandaged it after that bullshite with Zeta back in Coerthas.”

Mocha blinked again.

“Ye...do remember what 'appened, aye?”

The little Xaela wrinkled her face to try and remember, only to be met with a sudden pulse of head that washed over her as she dug through her thoughts to find the answer.

“I…do not, no. I remember you, Zeta, X’hrie and I were tasked with going back to stop the Ixal from summoning Garuda for a third time…” Mocha rested her hand on her chin, pushing through the rising pain to find an answer. “But I…am unable to remember much what happened after that. My apologies.”

Ludovic nodded. He leaned against the chair and crossed his arms, clicking his tongue twice as the gears in his head began to spin and work into place.

Silence befell them for the moment, Mocha taking the opportunity to examine her face more, brushing her fingers against her skin to find more evidence of what was _supposed_ to be a very quick mission. A big chunk of her face was covered in bandages, which was worrisome. They had fought Garuda before, but for there to have been such a massive injury from the fight was cause for concern. Fingers brushed against her lip and brushed against dried, pained skin. She winced from the contact as she attempted to gauge the length of the cut on her lips. It cut through her upper and lower lip, and while it wasn’t particularly long it hurt to hell and back—if this small cut was enough to hurt her this badly, she worried for the severity of her own _eye._

“Does it 'urt? We 'ave some salve I can give ye if ye need it.” A look of concern came over Ludovic’s face gain.

“No, no—it’s nothing I can’t handle.” She replied, a weak smile forming on her face through the pain.

A frown tugged down on the corner of Ludovic’s lips, obvious displeasure mounting in the form of furrowed brows and eyes squaring directly at her. His gaze was always so _piercing_.

“Ye don't 'ave to act strong, Mocha. Ye got fucked to all hells pretty 'ard by Zeta. If ye need 'elp just say so.”

Mocha sighed.

“If you insist, Ludovic. Perhaps salve or something would be of use.”

The all too familiar cheeky, toothy grin formed on Ludovic’s face as he sat up and strode over to the desk across from Mocha. She could hear drawers opening and closing, of neatly organized things being scrambled around by Ludovic’s impatience. She leaned back into the bed, allowing her body to relax into the sea of pillows that rested against her. Out the window she could see the fall of dawn give way to murky grays that blended with the purple-blues of the sun falling, billowing storm clouds from the east trickling into the skies. How appropriate, she thought—a beautiful visage being ruined by the sudden flux of weather, arbitrary and uncontrollable.

Much like how she felt now.

Ludovic returned to her side with salve in tow, passing the small glass container to her with gentleness before returning to his seat. She thanked him for his assistance before slowly applying the salve to her lips, feeling the coolness of the gel alleviate the searing pain that she felt when she so much as thought of the cut.

“Ludovic…” She began, taking a moment to smooth out the gel evenly on her skin.

“Aye?”

“So…what happened, exactly? And where is Zeta? Is he…alright?”

It was almost impossible to think that a gentle soul like Zetata would so much as injure Mocha—she’d known the Raen for far too long now to have felt any feelings of animosity towards each other. Especially any kind of feeling that would case him to lay a hand against her! Something had to have happened there in the Howling Eye to have caused them to have some sort of fight. Mocha mentally scolded herself for not remembering, unless the trauma from the incident was so intense that she momentarily blacked out from it—and considering the bandages on her face, that very much might be the case.

Her companion let out a small sigh as he adjusted himself, slouching in the chair in preparation for whatever tale Ludovic was about to regale.

“Well, to put a long story short, our mate gots themselves fuckin' tempered by a gods damned primal, apparently!” He exclaimed, making grand gestures with his hands.

Ludovic’s proclamation was met with stunned silence and wide-eyed horror from Mocha, her bright blue limbal rings seemingly pulsing with fury. Her mouth opened (no doubt preparing to interject), but the Highlander continued, wanting to tell the full story still.

“No, we don't know what 'appened. The three o' us didn’t get fuckin' enthralled by Garuda like before, but somehow Zeta did. An' the first thin' 'e did were to pick up 'is bloody lance an' aim it squarely at ye o' all people.”

“He…he was still recovering from that last attack, no?” Mocha had to interject, had to get a word in—she needed answers, damn it! “Bibica told us that he had only recently left the care of the chirurgeon just a few days prior. He’s been blinded, so perhaps his body was still weak.”

The only thing Ludovic could do was shrug. He knew of Zeta’s situation, of course.

“If that there been the case, 'e shouldn't 'ave volunteered to come with us. Should 'ave stayed to rest, instead 'e's caused one 'ell o' a fuckin' mess an' could o' killed ye in the process. 'e's bloody good with a lance, almost too fuckin' good.” Ludovic scoffed. “An eye fer an eye, 'uh? Fuckin' 'ells.”

Mocha laughed despite the situation. She touched the bandaged eye once more—it grounded her back into the moment, the realness of the pain tingling across her skin. It was real, what happened real whether she liked it or not. And by the Twelve did she _hate_ this situation quite a lot.

“Where is Zeta now?” She asked.

Ludovic made another vague gesture of dismissal and punctuated it with a grunt.

“Don't know. Probably with another chirurgeon. May 'ave given 'im one 'ell o' a beatin' fer attemptin' to kill us in cold blood.”

In most circumstances Mocha would have scolded his tactics for being so violent but bit her tongue in lieu of the current situation. A tempering is a serious affair, and for it to have happened to a close companion of hers, well…she was willing to take whatever steps necessary to put a halt to it. Or at the very least stop the rampage from going on.

“You have my thanks for saving us, Ludovic.” Mocha said after a moment of taking the story in.

“Eh, it been nothin'. At least no one got seriously 'urt. Now we just need to focus on the two o' ye gettin' rest.” Ludovic stood up and reached into the pockets of his pants, pulling out his trusty box of cigarettes and putting one into his mouth. “Speakin' o', ye need to be gettin' yer rest. We can talk more later if ye ain’t completely passed out.”

Mocha laughed—it’s not often that Ludovic was soft on her.

“I suppose you are correct.” She gave him a soft smile as she spoke, relaxing herself further into the cot. “I appreciate you keeping me company, Ludovic. You have my thanks, once more.”

Ludovic waved his hand in dismissal, not used to being tossed so many words of praise.

“Ye can thank me by _gettin' better_! X'hrie can't run this ‘ere damned company by 'erself ye know. An' I sure as 'ell don't want responsibility to be 'anded to _me_ o' all people.”

Mocha let out yet another burst of laughter—she too would be concerned if an executive decision was made that caused the head engineer of all people to suddenly take the position of higher power!

“Rest assured Ludovic, I will be sure to save you from the crushing waves of responsibility.”

Ludovic let out a heart laugh as he made his way to the doorway. He leaned against it, turning to steal one last glance at Mocha with the signature toothy grin on his face.

“Aye, glad I can always count on ye to save me ass from trouble.”


	2. worth the wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which mocha meets a friend in the immortal flames and suddenly finds herself with a new circle of friends.
> 
> and one distant relative.

There were many things Mocha’s echo gave her: a frighteningly powerful understanding of languages; being able to learn and speak them with such relative ease that at first glance one would think she was a native of the language. It also gave her an equally frightening and painful migraine whenever she was forced to observe a distant memory—so much so that she made a constant effort to have high quality painkillers on her to ensure that she would be able to deal with the pain posthaste.

What it did not give her, however, was the ability to make friends. It was obvious at a glance that Mocha reveled and enjoyed silence, of working alone in a meticulous fashion and being able to produce high quality work as a result. Of course, working for the Immortal Flames meant that eventually she _had_ to talk to someone, had to eventually report to the higher ups and had to micromanage those under her. It was inevitable of course. What she didn’t want however, was to have a friendship forced upon her—if she could work alone then by the Twelve let her be! But sometimes, oh, _sometimes_ , the higher ups deemed it so that Mocha needed a companion to get work done, and she would be assigned someone that _they_ chose for _her_.

Such was Hazel Laurent.

Hazel had all the qualities Mocha liked—hard working and determined, a self-starter who didn’t need to be managed and watched over like a hawk. She produced fine work, and it was almost staggering how neat and efficiently she worked. It was like looking at a reflection. They got along well, and in the months that followed in their time in the Flames, Mocha came to appreciate the Elezen’s presence, finding comfort and happiness in someone equally as like-minded as she was. It made the slow days go by fast, knowing that she could walk into the Immortal Flames guild and have someone who would offer the kind of peace and quiet Mocha loved.

On a particularly bright sunny day where nary a cloud drifted in the sky, Hazel asked if Mocha wanted to visit her free company house. Not wanting to refuse such an offer Mocha decided to accept, following her coworker to the warm, sun-filled skies of The Goblet. Hazel’s free company cottage overlooked a beautiful mountain range, capturing Mocha’s attention with a wide-eyed gaze.

“I envy you Hazel.” The auri said, crossing her arms as she continued to stare. “This view is breathtaking. It’s no wonder you come to the offices with a smile.”

Her Elezen companion laughed, running her hand through her snowy white hair.

“You flatter me, Mocha! But I didn’t do all the work—it was my old friend Janus who did the picking. He has a _wonderful_ sense of location.”

Mocha blinked, tilting her head and looking up at Hazel with interest. It’s not often she feels a want to meet other people, but if they’re like Hazel then perhaps…

“Will I get to meet Janus today?” She asked, watching her coworker fiddle with the front door as she unlocked it.

“Well, if you’re gonna meet Janus, I might as well introduce you to the whole crew!”

Hazel gave a steady push, the front door of the free company finally opening and giving way to the two of them. She announced her arrival while Mocha removed her shoes and changed into flats, not wanting to make a first rude impression onto Hazel’s own companions. She sat in the small sofa closest to the front door, straightened and at the ready for imminent shaking of hands and other formalities. There was a collective sound of who knows how many folks parading up the stairs from the basement to meet Hazel—it was like she was a celebrity of all things!

The first person to make their way towards the group after sliding from behind the wall was a Miqote of immense energy, with slicked back black hair and a teethy grin that radiated its own blinding energy. He ran up and hugged Hazel before turning his own attention to Mocha, happy curiosity curling the edges of his mouth into a smile.

“Ah, Hazel! Who is this _mujer que has traido_?”

Mocha recognized that language—it was from a continent far off the coast of Limsa Lominsa. She was grateful for her Echo at a time like this, but it would take more than just a sentence like that for her to learn it. Fascinating.

Hazel laughed and moved over to Mocha’s side, resting against the armrest of the chair.

“This is my coworker, Mocha. She works at the Immortal Flames with me and is one hell of a worker. Never met someone who can burn through as much paperwork as she.”

Mocha’s scales flushed red with embarrassment. She wasn’t one to think ever so highly of herself, so the praise was nearly setting her aflame. Janus intertwined his fingers with a smile before bowing slightly. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by the sudden hulking mass of another entering the first floor—an Au Ra of rather imposing stature. Mocha was never aware of how small she was until she had to _actively_ tilt her head up, and this new guest was certainly making her neck muscles work for the eye contact.

His eyes narrowed straight onto Mocha, obviously confused by the new person taking up a seat on their couch. Were it not for Hazel taking reign of the situation, it most certainly would have been a stare down between the two auri for hours on end.

“Aw, come on little brother, don’t give our guest a scowl.” Hazel moved over to her…brother and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. And with that, all pretense of fear and daunting left the man’s body, causing him to stutter and blush out of embarrassment.

“I…I didn’t mean to stare.” He said, running a hand through his black and red hair. “I’m Mars. Nice to meet you.”

Mocha stood up and gave a small courtesy. “I’m Mocha—it’s a pleasure, Mars.”

Hazel looked behind the wall and walked towards the small staircase that led toward the basement, surprised by the lack of more bodies rushing to greet her.

“Huh—where is everyone? I do believe we’re missing a few heads.”

Janus tilted his head and wiggled his ears, trying to remember where his missing comrades were.

“Ah, I think Ignia took Alrescha and Kuo’gu shopping. Shrimp went to Ul’dah for a bird check-up! She should be home any second now.”

The four of them decided to sit in the living room and make idle chatter, Hazel and Janus leading the conversation as they go through introductions and topics at breakneck speed. Mars and Mocha sit quietly, speaking only when spoken to—they were, as one might have guessed, _not really_ ones to be the center of conversation.

Half an hour of conversation went by before the door swung wide open and the sight of a _very_ plump baby chocobo rolled into the cottage, chirping all the while as its bright yellow body moved to the other side of the hall.

“Ack! I told you to be careful when coming inside!” A voice called out into the room in worry, followed by the sight of a light purple haired auri. “Ugh, those choco-treats they give you are _so_ awful.”

Mars, Janus and Hazel make a grand gesture of welcoming the auri back home—who Mocha soon realizes is their friend Shrimp. The little auri stashes her lance in the umbrella holder and steps closer to the comfy semi-circle of friends, her eyes darting between faces before quickly checking on her little chocobo companion who seemed very preoccupied with rolling around the floor.

“Shrimp—let me introduce you to my coworker, Mocha!” Hazel said, trying to get Shrimp’s momentary attention with a dramatic gesture of her hand.

“Huh?” Shrimp replied, snapping out of her motherly gaze to look over at the auri sitting next to Mars. “Oh, it’s a pleasure to meet—”

Shrimp let out a loud gasp, much to everyone’s surprise. Mocha stared firmly back at her, eyes widened in surprise. The other three looked back and forth at the pair, confused by the sudden…transgressions that were unfolding in front of them.

Mocha’s eyes looked over to Mars, meeting squinted eyes and furrowed brows. She opened her eyes to speak—not in Eorzean common, no. _Xaela_.

“ _You are…the last person I would expect to see here._ ”

Shrimp stared, hesitating as her lips open and closed repeatedly in frustrations. After a moment, she spoke.

“ _What are you doing here?_ ” Her words were dragged out and slow, rusted speech from lack of practice.

Janus looked over to Mars, who was still staring at Mocha. The Miqote knew he would get no answer from Mars who was more than happy to keep the conversation untranslated if necessary. But thankfully Hazel took the stand and cleared her throat, cutting through the now thick air with a knife.

“Mocha, mind—uh—filling the uninitated in?”

Mocha leaned back into the couch and sighed, making an open-palmed gesture towards Shrimp.

“This is my cousin, from my mother’s side. I haven’t seen her in…many, many years.”

“It would be almost five years at this point. I, um, figured you would be in Kugane still.” Shrimp said, rubbing the back of her head. _‘And married with a few kids by know, wasn’t that the plan?’_

She pushed that thought back and out of her head, lest she say something to make this awkward reunion worse, somehow. Neither of them liked the idea of unpacking all of their familiar ties and histories in front of these people, but such was the nature of conversation—

“Shrimp, you never told us you had a cousin! _Mierda_ , no one tells me these things anymore!” Janus’s comment and consequent pouting and crossing of arms caused the group to chuckle, easing them back into a more comfortable reality.

Hazel herself clapped her hands together with a smile, standing up and motioning for all to follow.

“Mocha, why don’t you join us for dinner! That way you and Shrimp can catch up, and we can all talk some more.”

Mocha was taken aback by the comment, eager to just up and well _leave_ , but once again couldn’t just say no to a request from Hazel.

“Ah, if you insist like that then…yes, I’ll stay over for dinner.”

She looked over instinctively to Shrimp, their eyes locking in a moment. It would certainly be one hell of a dinner, it seems.

* * *

Dinner was a large hot pot of Janus and Hazel creation: meats and veggies from all parts of Eorzea were present on the table, served in a multitude of bowls and plates in all the colors of the rainbow. Talk was lively and sweet, only increasing in excitement with the arrival of the other company members that arrived from their grocery shopping. Mocha was never one for such high energy conversation, always feeling like she could never match the energy of those around her, but tonight was different—it was invigorating and nice to be surrounded by new people, to actually _branch out_ for once. She was glad Hazel invited her, and wondered if she would be so kind as to invite her once more.

After all, was it not her who reunited Mocha and Shrimp together?

Maybe that’s why the two auri were seated on the stone fence of the company house, overlooking the vast expanse of mountains that was blanketed by a clear sky, dotted by a cornucopia of stars that shone brilliantly in the night sky. An awkward silence hang between the two of them—unspoken words tied their tongues and bunched their fingers in their clothing or made them skirt across the stone fence for comfort and grounding.

Was there really _anything_ they wanted to say?

“How’s the tribe?” Mocha asked, attempting to break the silence. Shrimp looked up from the chipped surface to look at her cousin in earnest, red limbal rings glowing her face in a warm hue.

“They’re okay. A lot of people followed in your family’s footsteps and made their way out of the Steppes. But...for the most part not much has changed. They've kind of...stuck to their own devices, save for the occasional trader from the mainland.”

“That’s funny. I always thought the Khas were _supposed_ to be about greeting the outside world and migrating.”

Shrimp sighed, a finger scratching her left cheek.

“I mean, I thought so too. But I guess _our_ collection of Khas are a little more…quiet.”

“Yeah, they always were, huh?”

Shrimp nodded in response and silence befell them again, falling back into the routine of staring at the sky and scratching nails against the stone fence. The silence was awkward but necessary—muddled and clouded thoughts that just wanted to burst out did not make for good conversation starters.

“I…thought you were supposed to be married.”

But that never stopped the occasional nugget of curiosity to burst out. Mocha laughed something hollow and deflated, before answering her cousin’s response.

“Yes, I, um…put a full stop to that.” Mocha didn’t want to think about it, but this was her own blood she was speaking to (in a sense). When they last met it was in Kugane, with Shrimp being all the younger and fresher, surprised and in awe of the majestic and grandiose design of the port city. It was a massive change of sight from the open and vast hills that was the Steppes. Mocha was spending weeks and weeks practising and honing her red mage skills and learning how to manage a business—Shrimp was so much more carefree, and it was nice to see that she had grown to be such a nice young women.

If only they could have met in private to begin with, maybe then this wouldn’t feel so awkward.

“Are you okay, then? I know you couldn’t have a say when your family left for Doma and Kugane but…” A look for worry washed over Shrimp, her voice getting quieter and quieter as worry crept into her bones.

Mocha nodded, turning to face her cousin.

“I am, yes. I made this decision all on my own, and I’d like to think I made a good life here.”

“How long have you been gone?”

“Hm…about 8 months, perhaps?” Mocha tapped a finger to her chin, trying to do the calculations in her head. “I admit I haven’t been keeping all that much time, what with all the work I’ve been multitasking between the Flames, the Scions, and my free company.”

Shrimp blinked back in surprise.

“That’s…an awful lot of work for one person!”

Mocha laughed, not quite realizing the severity of her workload as Shrimp seemed to be perceiving it.

“I was raised for it, I suppose. I don’t know what I would do with myself without just…working.”

For the first time this evening the awkward air between them shifted and fluxed towards something _completely_ different—adamant determination.

“Yeah but, you can’t spend all day working! Gotta take time to go out and enjoy life, you know!” Mocha raised her hand to interject, only to have Shrimp point a finger in her general direction. “You can’t tell me doing paperwork all day is enjoyable!”

“Well—”

Shrimp shook her head and raised her voice as hot-headed determination shook in her voice.

“Nuh uh! No cousin of mine is going to be spending all day working, you’ll grow gray hairs that way!”

Mocha ran a hand through her rose-pink hair and winced—she didn’t want to grey that much already! She was still 20 winters young! Shrimp continued her tirade of invigorated ideas, clasping Mocha’s hands in hers as her eyes shone with a myriad of ideas that she was absolutely prepared to toss in her cousin’s direction.

“I know—you should come over more often. I can introduce you to all my birds!”

“You…you still collect birds?” Mocha blinked in surprise. She remembers all sorts of small animals seeming to just be attracted to Shrimp wherever she went. More often and not they were birds, but she figured it was the charm of a happy youth that got nature to bend to her will. To know that she was amassing a _collection_ of them was…something, alright.

“Of course. Eorzea has so many of them, I must take the time to show them all to you. I’m sure they’ll love you as much as they like me!”

A small smile formed on Mocha’s lips at the prospect of spending time together with Shrimp—it looked like whatever awkward hurdle that was between them had been crossed.

“But…I wouldn’t want to impose on the rest of your free company. I would hate to be a burden and show up uninvited.”

Shrimp shook her head with intense vigor. This auri will _not_ be stopped, damn it!

“Don’t worry! With how dinner went I’m sure everyone will be so happy to see you more often—don’t be a stranger to us!” She gave her cousin a toothy, warm grin. Her limbal rings seemed to shine harder and brighter now, the cloud of confusion and awkwardness dissipating and giving way to a lustrous shine that illuminated her face with renewed vigor. “You’re part of the family now. Not just being my cousin, but by being our friend too.”

The sentence took Mocha aback, her body flinching in reaction.

“I’m…part of the family now?”

Shrimp nodded.

“Yeah, family.” She slipped her fingers between Mocha’s, interlocking their fingers and giving a gentle squeeze of affirmation. “You can’t just stop showing up now, right?”

Her voice quivered for a second as a sudden rise of sadness gave way in her voice. Mocha stared at her cousin, realizing the nature of the situation and of her cousin’s words. She was right—despite Mocha’s meekness of meeting people, of never wanting to impose on others and wanting to never be a burden, she knew that deep down she could not resist the pull of a bond like this. It’s been years, many, _many_ years since she and Shrimp last spoke, but that doesn’t mean it had to just be the end.

Mocha squeezed her affirmation in their interlocked hands and smiled, pressing the crown of scales on her forehead against her cousin’s own and laughed.

“Please, don’t cry on me. I’m very bad at making people feel better.”

Shrimp laughed and laughed, the waterfall of tears flowing down her cheeks as she tossed herself at Mocha, wrapping her arms around her shoulders with fervor. It was a bittersweet reunion years in the making, of not knowing when they’d see each other again—or if the wait would be worth it.

The sky shown above them with a gentle soft light, calling home the sounds of family as the wind brushed against their skin. It carried with it the sounds of laughter and tears, and of long lost bonds tightening at it seams.


	3. cravings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mocha takes a trip by herself to the waking sands a few nights before tabula rasa is meant to storm castrum meridianum. what could possibly go wrong?

He sauntered across the desert like a warrior returning to his people, regaling in the sights and the endless expanse of the night sky that was unclouded by nearby civilization. Cold air whipped at his black robe, reminding him of his tethered existence to this mortal realm—eternal and unflinching. He was so _bored_ of this realm, so tired of the never-ending failures that the Garleans brought to heel at his feet like a dog trying to please its master. He would not be able to gorge himself on useless, meagre scraps no—he craved the fulfilment that only the total collapse of heroes would bring him.

And yet! His plans for destruction had been momentarily stilled, the plethora of hosts he captured and enthralled proving to be nothing more than useless toys, having discarded his last host near the edge of a cliff face across the Sagoli Desert. He needed something, a quick solution to the problems of the Warriors of Light.

He had one in mind—one of the more pitiable members of the Scions that would prove useful for his ministrations, that would easily be a perfect vessel for his might. But until he could reach closer to that body and finally reap it for his taking, he would have to find an intermediate host.

And he had a perfect host in mind.

The eikon slayers, the collective company of heroes that he’s clashed with time and time again—surely they would be suitable and ripe for the taking. He drew a clawed finger to his lips and smiled, a plan formulating in his mind already—omnipotence he lacked, but stratagem eons in the making was his suit. He had a goal, a retched desire for something and he was determined to see it through.

Whatever the cost.

Enveloping himself in the darkness of the void the man teleports himself to the edges of Thanalan to Camp Drybone—as much as he hated having less than perfect hosts, mediocrity would suffice for now. All he had to do was wait for the fly to attract itself to his trap, and he could begin his work at last.

* * *

“Mocha, are you sure you wouldn’t like some company?” X’hrie asked as she watch her companion fill her rucksack with odds and ends for her trip. Mocha quirked an eyebrow and smiled, appreciating her companions worry.

“I think so, yes. The thought it appreciated, but there ought to be no trouble on route to The Waking Sands.”

In a few days the Scions and Tabula Rasa would be storming Castrum Meridianum and begin the penultimate phase of Operation Archon. The Scions had arranged for one more meeting with the Immortal Flames to ensure that everything was prepared, and since Mocha was counted amongst their ranks, it only made sense that she was called to action as well—if there was anyone who knew matters involving Garleans and Ascians, it would be her.

A few other members of Rasa declined to go, wanting to get last minute rest and practice before they were set off to storm the Castrum. X’hrie had originally declined the invitation, but now wore a look that of worry that wrinkled her nose and caused her to frown with worry.

“I know you’re more than capable of caring for yourself, but nonetheless…” The Miqote adjusted her glasses before tilting her head. “We can’t really afford to let our guard down—we never know when evil might strike.”

Mocha laughed, tying her rucksack, and tossing it across her shoulders.

“Well, you’re more than welcome to walk with me towards The Canopy if you’d like. Would that put your mind at ease?”

Her companion smiled and shrugged, agreeing to the offer and the two made their way from The Lavender Beds towards The Canopy in New Gridania. The walk was pleasant, with a bright and warm sun shining above them amidst the sea of white, fluffy clouds. The city itself was bustling and lively, with other adventurers and common folk walking around and conversing amongst each other—no doubt doing what they could to take advantage of the great day.

Inside The Canopy itself it was no different, with a small throng of people coming in and out. Whether checking into the in, boarding carriages or unloading goods from the airships it was all so lively and there was such a grand commotion that Mocha and X’hrie were almost unfamiliar with.

Eventually the two made it to the ticket booth at the bottom of the building, and Mocha turned to face X’hrie, ready to say her goodbyes.

“You _will_ text me when you’ve made it to the Waking Sands, yes?” X’hrie said, that oh so familiar motherly tone creeping into her words. Mocha couldn’t help but smile, appreciating the way that her Miqote companion doted on her with words of gentleness and familiarity.

“I promise, I shall. It should not be long until you hear of me again—the carriage ride should not take very long. A few hours at most if I recall.” Mocha tucked a tuft of her rose-pink hair behind her horn, trying to put on a confident and assured demeanour for her companion. It was going to be a simple ride, but X’hrie’s own worry was starting to get to her.

Her words seemed to assure X’hrie for now, her companions ears bouncing in contentment.

“I will hold you to that—I would not hesitate to ring you up if you don’t text me.”

Ah, there was the worry once more.

With a smile and a laugh Mocha gave a small wave of farewell as she crossed the gates towards the carriage. She could feel X’hrie’s unflinching gaze at the back of her head, determined to keep a watch on her until she vanished from her view.

She walked across the wooden deck and onto a near empty carriage, seating herself against the back and setting her rucksack down next to her. Across from her was a robed man, arms crossed and face obscured by a hood. It was hard to tell if he was sleeping or not, and Mocha was not so inclined to tap him on the shoulder and ask. Next to him was a small leather bag, the strap neatly tucked around it . After a few minutes the carriage _kweh’d_ to life at the sound of the four chocobos stirring awake, the carriage gently rocking as they made their way towards Thanalan.

Mocha made herself comfortable and leaned into her seat, crossing her legs and watching the sea of trees and shrubbery fly by her sight. It was calm and peaceful.

“Where are you heading off too, miss?”

She turned her attention to the hooded man in front of her, face nearly shrouded by the black hood he wore. So, he _was_ awake.

“Ah, I’m off to visit some friends near Horizon in Thanalan.”

It wasn’t a complete lie, but she _had_ just met this man—Mocha wasn’t going to just giveaway all her secrets so easily. The man smiled. The way his mouth curled was sending shivers down Mocha’s spine.

“Quite far from home, huh? Must be a _very_ important meeting.”

“It is. We have quite a few plans to discuss, and it’s better to do these things in person.”

“Is that so?” The robed man tilted his head and long, flowing gold locks of hair peeked out from under the hood. “Don’t you think it’s fun to just…do stuff on your own, without worrying about the other?”

Mocha squinted, unable to understand the man’s words—she never thought this way, she was always one to consult people’s needs and plan just about everything she did. Hell, even this meeting was pre-planned, no matter how last minute it was.

“Apologies, that is…simply not how I work. I prefer communication and teamwork above all else.”

The man gave a toothy smile, freaking out Mocha once more.

“Apologies, I forget that it’s not common thinking to be a wild card.” There was something about the voice and the smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, as if he were forcing conversation for the sake of filing the downtime. Mocha didn’t mind, but there was just something off-putting about this man that just made her…uneasy.

She must’ve been making a cautious face as the man reached into his leather bag in search of something. He pulled out a small glass bottle that held a mysterious deep red liquid that had a watery yet viscous texture. The man offered the bottle towards Mocha, who merely looked at it with even more caution.

“It was not my intention to upset you. _Please_ , _take this juice_.” His words were weighty and lingered in his breath as vowels and thrums of his tongue rung in Mocha’s ears. She felt heavy and clouded, eyes forcibly staring at the bottle.

“What…is it?” Exhaustion carried her words out from her mouth towards him as a hand reached out, fingers gently gripping tight the bottle and bringing it close to her.

“It’s…a _rolanberry juice_ that my friend’s devised. Please, _drink it_ —it is a gesture of apology.” That damned voice of his! He was doing something to her, this Mocha knew, but for some reason she couldn’t resist the temptation that his words were dragging her towards. With a grunt she twisted the cork from the bottle and gently lifted the drink to her lips despite the echoes of screams ringing in her head.

The liquid was bitter to all hells as if it were made from the darkest reaches of the void itself. It hurt to swallow and it burned her throat, coating it in a suffocating thick layer of Twelve knows what. Mocha drank it all and coughed, her body trying to eject the mysterious liquid from her body. But they knew it was too late, that as she folded over herself in a fit of coughs that she had been enthralled in whatever hell this robed man had put her in.

She looked up at him one last time, the shrouded face glowing a blurred red hue as she collapsed in her chair, succumbing to the darkness that was brought forth from the bottle. The man stood up and scoffed, adjusting Mocha in her seat in a curled fashion, tucking her legs closer to her chest. He reached for her rucksack and tossed it over the carriage sides, watching with a satisfied grin as it sank to the bottom of a close by river.

As the trees of Gridania gave way to rocky, earthy cliffs, the man coiled himself in his black magical energy, making his way towards the driver and continuing onto the next phase of his plans. There was no stopping this now.

* * *

“X’hrie, what ails you?” Zeta lifted a finger from his book to turn his face up at his companion. The auri didn’t have to have working eyes to know that something was wrong with his dear friend who had her face glued to her phone for the past hour. With a furrowed brow X’hrie spoke, her tone once again clouded with worry.

“Mocha has yet to text me.”

“How long has it been?”

“About 2 hours.” X’hrie gripped her phone and unlocked it, navigating towards the text messaging app and opening her last chat with Mocha.

“That…doesn’t sound particularly long.” Zeta slid a small bookmark between the pages of the book and closed it, turning his full attention towards X’hrie.

“No but it is Mocha’s first time travelling alone without us or a Scion member.” The Miqote sighed and slid back into her chair, indecision wracking her body as she opted to tap her fingers on the table she sat at.

“It’s good to worry, but Mocha is a talented red mage.”

“That she is, but she’s _also_ a talented communicator.” X’hrie said with a huff. “She _always_ texts back on the dot, as well. It’s possible I’m overreacting, but…”

Zeta stood up from his seat and walked over to the table, his hands drifting forward and towards its wooden surface. He had this entire free company mansion memorised in his head, but the aethersight helped quite a bit too.

“Would you like to go to The Waking Sands, then?” He smiled, hoping it would help calm X’hrie down. “We can ask if anyone else would like to join, too.”

“That might be a good idea.” X’hrie clasped her hands together and drew them close to her. “Best case scenario they grabbed hold of Mocha into a meeting the second she stepped into the building.”

Zeta tilted his head, quirking an eyebrow at his companion.

“And the worst case, if I may ask?”

X’hrie winced.

“I would…rather not think about it.”

❧

Black clouds billowed in the air as Mocha’s eyes shot wide open. They darted everywhere and all around her, feeling a massive weight crushing her body and her internal organs in more ways than she could count. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt. What…what happened? Everything was going fine—the carriage on route from Gridania had seemed perfectly safe and comfortable, so much so that she was able to fall asleep on it. The only other persons on the ride was the driver and the robed Hyur who made idle chatter with Mocha about her destination.

Mocha slowly and painfully turned onto her stomach, feeling the rush of pain surging through her body. She slowly clawed her way out of the carriage, fingers digging into the red earth as she scrambled out of the wreckage in a panic. Her mind was foggy, clouded by confusion at the sudden turn of events that occurred.

She managed to wrangle herself from the depth of the carriage and only solid ground, rolling onto her back and feeling an ever increasing wave of numbness all over her body. Her rapier and crystal lay firmly around her waist (by some miracle of Halone) and she reached for them desperately, shaky fingers wrapping themselves around the pulsing waves of mana that thrummed in her fingers.

“V-Vercure, V-Vercure…” She muttered in desperation, trying to focus all her thoughts into rushing out a healing spell. Mocha was quite possibly the last person who ought to be pumping out healing spells but right now she was _completely_ out of options. Her magicked crystal hummed and pulsed bright white and green as the spell washed over her, waves of pain being drowned out by the soothing sounds of the Vercure working its way through her.

When she closed her eyes to relax, Mocha most certainly didn’t expect the moment to be ruined by the sudden boot slamming into her hand and rocketing her crystal yalms away from her. No, most certainly wasn’t expect that—so it was safe to say she was _rightfully_ pissed by it happening.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Said the robed man who was rude enough to interrupt her. Mocha’s hand instinctively went to her rapier and was met with another slam of this man’s boot. She winced and yelped in pain as the man stood there and laughed. “And you call yourself a Warrior of Light? How _drab_.”

How in all of Eorzea did this man know _that_?

Mocha had some measure of renewed strength and managed to lift her head up to look at the robed man properly—only to be met with a deep red mask of familiar design: _Lahabrea_. Her eyes went wide at the sudden realization, using her free hand to take hold of her rapier and swing wildly to free herself. Lahabrea clicked his tongue in annoyance, stepping off her hand and floating back a few paces.

“Come now, _Mocha_ , did I not just save your life there?”

“W-what are you talking about?” Mocha asked shakily, rushing to her feet. She could sense her magicked crystal a few yalms away, and without that she would be near defenseless.

Lahabrea made a sweeping gesture towards the wreckage behind them. Charred wood and steel laid in a smoky mound as the once billowing clouds of smoke all but dissipated into thin trickles of smoke. Mocha’s eyes followed near where she had crawled out of, nothing two pillars of steel at either side of it. Her brain was working the answer in her head, but an Ascian couldn’t have just—

“You…you saved my life? _Why_?”

Lahabrea let loose a rousing laughter that echoed and shook through Mocha’s body, slamming against her rib cage as if she herself was laughing. It was annoying and by the Twelve, the auri would give anything to get him to shut up.

“Why? I’m in need of a new body, and I do believe an eikon slayer such as yourself would be ever so perfect for my needs.”

“You are mistaken if you believe I would give my body willingly to _you_.”

Yet another laugh burst through his lips as dark matter formed and swirled into orbs in his hands.

“I don’t think you realize the severity of this, Warrior of Light. You owe a favor to the _Ascian_.” His voiced was a near whisper now, taking small, purposeful steps towards Mocha with every increasing hostility in his stride. “After so willingly drinking my elixir too, this is how you repay me? Were it not for my potion setting your body to rest, you most certainly would be dead by now.”

As he inched ever so closer to her Mocha swiped her rapier up with swift force, catching Lahabrea off guard as she flipped backwards with all her remaining strength, widening the distance between them as she made a mad backwards dash for her crystal. Her legs were pained still but her mind was willing to swim through the agony in a desperate attempt to even the playing field. She refused to find truth in his words and was instead prepared to give him a pummelling to finally put him in his place. Mocha used the tip of her rapier to scoop up the crystal that was just out of reach and punted it into the air, catching it in her grip with ease.

Lahabrea cackled. Despite the situation at hand, and despite Mocha preparing herself for a fight his entire demeanour was completely and utterly nonchalant.

“You have no idea what you’re up against.” He said, voice echoing all around them—it was as if he was everywhere at once.

He snapped his fingers and a loud boom erupted in Mocha’s head, staggering her to the floor in a near instant. She dropped her weapons once more and all but collapsed and crumpled into herself. The pain was localised in her stomach and all she could feel, and think was _pain_. Lahabrea sauntered to her with all the nonchalant air of a king, smiling wider and harder as Mocha groaned out and screamed in pain.

“Liked my drink, didn’t you?” He whispered, kneeling in front of her and thumbing her chin, tilting it up to get a closer look at her pained face. Her light blue limbal rings had all but lost their shine and energy, her blue eyes clouded from the agony she was in. “It’s amazing what Ascian’s can create for you lowly beings with a little voidsent blood and other powerful magicks of our own creation.”

She wanted to scream, desperately so. But no words could be formed from her mouth.

“You’ll make a perfect vessel. Off to see those wretched allies of yours, yes? The Scions and the grand companies?” Lahabrea took his time tilting Mocha’s face as hunger and violence filled his voice. “With someone as powerful as you infiltrating their ranks…ah yes, I can see destruction and mayhem now!”

He cackled once more and lifted Mocha off the ground, a hand wrapping itself around the waist as her tiny auri body went nearly limp in his grip. She was almost primed and ready for his enthralling, so much so that Lahabrea could almost taste the wellspring of aetherical energy that swirled inside Mocha’s body.

“Tell me, Warrior of Light—how does it feel to know that soon you’ll finally be of use to this wretched world you call home?” He made a sweeping gesture of the lands, power-hungry eyes staring down at the girl in his arms, so hungry and desperate to consume her.

Mocha’s voice was slurred and weak, teetering on the edge of oblivion.

“Release me onto the void, o Ascian…” She said. “Please…put me out of my misery.”

Lahabrea reached down and dragged a pointed claw across Mocha’s face before landing itself on her heart as a wicked smile lined his face.

Rain clouds billowed and stormed above, making way for a torrent of water that poured over the two. Thunder crackled and boomed—a fitting, perfect end to this almost perfectly hatched plan.

Almost, of course. For what would add to yet another thorn onto his side but the incoming whirl of a lance aimed squarely at Lahabrea, forcing him to lose focus and teleport away from the lance’s aim. Mocha dropped to the ground, a small groan of pain from the impact forcing her onto her back as she drifted into unconsciousness. The Ascian raised his hand towards Mocha in a desperate attempt to capture her, only to be met with the slam of a shoulder into his side as he was rammed down onto the ground.

He lifted his gaze to see the all too familiar visage of familiar bodies in front of him. Ludovic and Zetata surrounded him, weapons at the ready and eager to decimate the Ascian. X’hrie and Bibica ran to Mocha’s side, looking over her body and trying to stir her awake.

“It’s useless, you pitiable mortals!” Lahabrea exclaimed, lifting himself off the ground and onto his feet. “She’s already primed for the taking—if not by my hand, then perhaps another!”

“Keep blabberin' an' I won't 'esitate to stab that there stupid mask off yer fuckin' face.” Ludovic said, inching closer to Lahabrea with murder in his eyes. Zeta tightened his grip on his lance, equally prepared to end this once and for all.

Lahabrea laughed once more. All he ever did was _laugh_.

“Fools! You know not what you’re up against! Even if I can’t kill you here, the Ultima Weapon shall!” His voice was haughty and arrogant—and yet he knew he was outmatched, that their combined might would be enough to kill him once and for all.

Ludovic had quite enough of his blabbering and tossed a knife towards Lahabrea, only to have the nuisance in front of them vanish from sight in a deep black mist. The Rasa members were on high alert, darting their heads around as they looked out for the enemy. The rain was pouring at an increase rate, soaking their clothes, and clouding their eyes with a sheet of water. The silence that followed wasn’t reassuring—all they could hear was the pitter-patter of rain against the area around them, of the occasional thunderstorm booming in the skies.

With a collective sigh the group reconvened around Mocha, Zeta gently lifting her from the ground and into his arms.

“Were his words true?” Zeta asked, tilting his head to look at Bibica and X’hrie.

“It’s hard to way without checking further.” X’hrie began with a frown on her face. “I feel immense… _something_ in her abdomen, but I haven’t the slightest clue what it would be.”

“Maybe we should be goin’ to The Waking Sands!” Bibica said, raising a pointed finger at the group. “Papalymo and Y’shtola would definitely know what’s up with our dear Mocha.”

“Then to The Waking Sands we go.” Zeta said, adjusting his grip on Mocha’s body.

The summoned forth their chocobos and made a mad dash towards The Waking Sands with Mocha in tow, concern and worry clouding their thoughts and judgement. They trusted the Scions and knew they were capable, but who knows what this could mean for Mocha, from here on out…?


	4. momentary realization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hazel visits mocha in the flames barracks, a bit worried about her little brother.

Hazel would follow Mars until the ends of the earth—they both knew this, at least, Hazel wanted to believe her little brother did. He was quiet lately, avoiding contact with her and not speaking as often as he usually did. He was never a talker for sure, but at the very least if something bothered him he would always go to Hazel, taking a stroll around The Goblet together and just letting loose all the worries that were weighing and sagging down his shoulder. Light purple eyes would look at his face and offer respite from the world, a safe space for him to think and speak without worry about stress and other horrors of the world.

But for some reason he was just…distant, not talking to her—surely something had to be happening! If Mars wasn’t going to speak to Hazel, then she would go to someone who could maybe wrack her brain for any ideas: one Mocha Macchiato.

Mocha was exactly where Hazel expected her to be, which is to say in her company barracks reviewing a thick stack of enlistment papers that laid on her desk from a few days neglect. She had been absent the past few days due to the amount of injuries she had sustained because of her time with the Scions, something that caused Hazel some measure of worry. Mocha had informed her of the severity of her injuries and what occurred, but the Elezen knew she could not deter her companion from work, no matter how hard she tried.

It was late in the evening at this time, with most of the companion members already gone home, including Mocha’s squadron. With a knock on the large metal door frame she was beckoned in and greeted by the auri’s frame seated and at attention on the desk closest to the door. She greeted her companion verbally, though her eyes were locked in an intense battle with the papers she was quickly filling out—no doubt busy and trying to finish up as soon as possible so she too can go home.

“One of these days you’ll go home on time.” Hazel said, pulling up a chair opposite of Mocha and taking a seat, propping her elbows on the desk and staring at her friend with a smile. Her auri companion smiled back, letting out a small laugh at the comment.

“Perhaps. But until then, I will have no choice but to work through all these papers.”

“Maybe you should hire an assistant considering all the work they put you through.”

Mocha quirked an eyebrow at her companion. It was the first time in a while Hazel noticed the scars that ran across her companion’s face—a nick across her lips, on her eyebrow and the top of her eyelid. She wondered if it hurt but realized she ought to stop staring so much lest she make Mocha highly uncomfortable.

“An assistant would be nice; however, I don’t think I’m in a position to request for one just yet.” Mocha smiled. “But I have high expectations. I suspect most people wouldn’t last long.”

Hazel readjusted her posture and leaned back, scratching her cheek with a gloved finger.

“You don’t seem to have high expectations of _me._ ”

Her companion stilled for a moment and looked up at Hazel once more.

“That’s because you’re _already competent_.”

The completely straight face sentence caused Hazel to laugh. Oh, to be worthy of praise from Mocha! She couldn’t help but burst out in happiness, causing Mocha to laugh as well. It looked like she too desperately needed the momentary distraction. Once the laughter finally died down, Mocha put down her quill and set aside the papers, turning her full undivided attention to her guest.

“I suspect you aren’t here to hear me praise you.”

Hazel’s confident smile crumbled into a wry one, half lidded eyes shifting from Mocha’s unending stare to the desk that separated them.

“That would be correct.”

Mocha made a sweeping gesture to the space between them, offering the floor—so to speak—to her friend. The Elezen gave a small sigh and ran her gloved hand through her short white hair.

“Well, I’m a little worried about Mars. He doesn’t…speak to me often, and I’m wondering if something’s up.”

It was of no surprise to Hazel that Mocha quirked an eyebrow and squinted her eyes. So much so that she can probably already guess what the auri was thinking! It felt impolite to lay her heart out in the open like this, particularly in regard to one of the most important person of Hazel’s life.

“I take it you’re talking to me about this because…the other free company members would be of no use?”

Hazel nodded.

“I don’t know if they would understand…Mars is usually always aloof, and isn’t particularly one for long winded conversation. But lately it just seems like he’s…extra uncooperative.”

It must’ve sounded stupid, to worry about one’s sibling not talking, and not communicating—for a moment Hazel wondered if talking to Mocha about this was a bad idea, the rise of self-consciousness working itself into her body and making her highly uncomfortable. But her friend was nothing if not kind—a side of her most people would not assume from the general apathy that Mocha exuded. In a way, Mocha and Mars…shared a lot of the same social qualities.

It’s a wonder Hazel found herself so often reaching for Mocha—she reminded her so much of her own little brother.

“Do you know if there was a fight or argument between Mars and someone else?” Mocha had a tender tilt to her voice when she spoke. It was soft and motherly and showed a side of her that Hazel was sure didn’t leave the privacy of shared conversation.

“I mean…Mars gets along with everyone.” Hazel squinted her eyes and considered Mocha’s question, tapping her finger repeatedly against the side of her head as she did so. “I know he and Janus are quite the pair but…”

Her auri companion’s confusion reminded Hazel that not everyone is privy to the life and inner workings of FM. Despite Mocha coming to visit more and more the past few months, there were certainly moments that Mocha hadn't witnessed before.

“He and Mars tend to…butt heads quite a lot during missions together. I wonder if maybe that’s why he’s been so quiet lately.”

“But, if that were the case, why would he stop speaking to you about his issues?” Mocha asked, tilting her head towards her friend. All Hazel would do was shrug at her sentence.

“I’m not sure…perhaps he doesn’t want to cause trouble amongst the rest of the group?”

Mocha rubbed her chin with her hand, trying to formulate an answer. Something about this still didn’t feel quite right, like there was still something missing from the equation. She would feel bad if this was left unresolved, especially since the last thing she would want is for Hazel to feel upset.

Her thoughts went to Janus, and to the day they met just a few months ago. Despite the blinding radiance of energy and confidence the man had Mocha couldn’t detect a bad bone in his body—he had been consistently kind and gentle on Mocha, always checking up on her and inviting her over to the FM house to hang out and have dinner. For him to cause distress onto Mars…it seemed impossible! Surely there must’ve been something. Perhaps this is all a misunderstanding? Mocha certainly couldn’t put her finger on this.

But Hazel, at the very least could. She thought of their times in Eorzea, of the two bickering at almost all moments while she and Shrimp were there cutting and tearing through monsters all the while. There were many moments of runs going perfectly fine and dandy before one of the boys opened their damned mouths and the endless bickering was back to full force. They were always testing each other’s patience, pushing buttons and boundaries that the rest of the free company would never dare touch.

“Never realized how much they bicker like an old couple reliving their glory days.” Hazel said, breaking the momentary silence the two of them had. Mocha made a small noise of confusion, looking at Hazel with another look of confusion.

“They aren’t that old, last I recall.”

“No, not like, age wise. More like…an old married couple.”

The realization hit her before the sentence finished leaving her mouth, and suddenly everything made sense. Her eyes went wide and she groaned, upset that she didn’t realize it sooner. The consistent look of confusion upon Mocha’s face was enough to let Hazel know she ought to let her friend in on the answer.

“Twelve take me, that stupid brother of mine is in _love_! That’s why he isn’t talking to me!”

“For Mars to ignore you because he’s in love with Janus is…” Mocha wasn’t sure what to say, confused by the answer Hazel had come to. She wasn’t aware being in love made people so… _silly_.

“Oh, I should have expected nothing less from that boy. He knows that I’m the kind of person to tease him to death about it, and probably doesn’t want me catching on.” Hazel gave a toothy grin and a shrug. She mentally berated herself for taking so long for realize what was going on, for thinking her little brother was mad at her, _and_ for not having enough time to tease and ease him into chasing after Janus.

She stood up from the chair and stretched, smoothing out the creases of her white bolero as she decided her next move.

“Are you going to confront him?” Mocha asked, light blue eyes staring up at her.

“I have half a mind to, but I don’t wanna be an overbearing sister.” Hazel replied, shaking her head. “I care for him deeply, and I would hate to embarrass him in any sort of way.”

“Well, at least he has a very caring sister who is considerate of his position.”

Hazel shrugged once more.

“Yes, because that has been working nicely for me!” She looked at Mocha and pointed a finger at her companion with a crooked grin on her face. “Promise me _you’ll_ never fall in love, Mocha. I don’t think I could handle _you_ acting like Mars is now.”

Mocha was taken aback by the comment, giving a weary smile as she crossed her arms.

“Come now, I’d like to think I’d a bit more capable of rational thought should I be afflicted with _love-sickness_.”

“You say that now, but if I have to come the barracks or to the company cottage and find you on the verge of tears because of heartache, I might actually have to lie down.” Hazel moved to the corner of the desk and leaned against it, tapping her fingers against its wooden surface with gentleness.

“I can assure you it would take a lot more than heartache to have me on the verge of tears.” Mocha said, quirking an eyebrow and staring directly into Hazel’s eyes as she spoke. Her companion looks back with intent, desperate to call out their bluff.

“That better be a promise, otherwise I _will_ tell you I told you so.”

“Then feel free to say that if I prove you wrong.”

“Good! Because I can’t tease my little auri brother without him bursting into flames, so I’ll have to chase the next best thing.” Hazel gave another smile and lightly tapped her knuckles against Mocha’s forearm, causing her friend to scoff out a laugh. She rolled her eyes, trying not to imagine the amount of teasing she would get from Hazel if the Elezen ever caught wind of her having an object of affections. Mocha was thankful that she wasn’t in such a position at this time.

“With such vigor in your actions, I take it you’re feeling better?” Mocha looked up at her companion as she spoke, noticing a renewed sense of happiness in her smile and more pep in her voice. Hazel smiled and gave a nod of affirmation.

“Apologies for taking up your precious work time with such a quick and trivial matter.”

“Ah, think nothing of it. A person of your talent and worth is always welcome to my time.”

Once again Mocha’s nonchalant apathy made Hazel laugh. How on earth did this girl always have such wonderful one liners at times like these? She slowly slid off the desk and made her way towards the door, Mocha following suit as she helped to escort her friend out of the barracks.

“You know, Mocha…” Hazel began with a gloved hand wrapped tightly around the door handle. “Is it okay to show favouritism towards coworkers?”

Mocha considered her question for a moment, lips pursed and eyes sweeping the floor, to Hazel, to the door, and back to Hazel with a focused look on their face.

“Only if they’re competent. Can’t expect to have the best squadron if those under me have no drive to succeed.”

Hazel let out a scoff that melted into laughter, unable to get enough of Mocha’s ever surprising harshness.

“Don’t you think that’s a little harsh?”

“Not at all. I do think I could be meaner. Would you like me to be?”

Hazel pushed the door open and a burst of fresh, cold night air whipped against the two women as they stood at the gates of the barracks and the company entrance proper.

“No, actually. I think you’re plenty harsh.”


	5. no regrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ludovic urges mocha to take a day off, so she decides to hang out with the one other free company she knows and loves.

“Ye need to get out more.”

A sudden voice stirred Mocha from another monotonous day of work. She looked up from the sea of papers and documents to meet the gaze of one Ludovic, who started to make a habit out of visiting Mocha in her office multiple times a day. The auri dipped her favored quill in ink and continued working, not wanting to lose the thought she had right before he interrupted her.

“I do believe I get out enough already.” 

“That there so? ‘Cause I be pretty sure this be where ye live at this point.” He moved from his position at the door frame and moved closer to her desk, hands stuffed in his pockets and a freshly opened cigarette rolling in his mouth. Mocha spoke to him as she worked, still very determined to finish her myriad of letters and other financial work she had to take care of.

“Well, if I weren’t here then who else would you bother with your presence?” She asked sarcastically. Mocha was rewarded with the hearty chuckle from Ludovic, the Hyur leaning against her desk and teetering on the edge of her personal bubble. He must’ve been repairing the airships since he smelled like motor oil and singed cotton—in most circumstances Mocha would have scolded him for bringing such a mess to the office but found herself growing too soft to scold him lately.

Lucky man.

“Aye well, it be easier to mess with ye than the other two. They already be too relaxed.”

“I apologize for not being at the apex of relaxation for you then, Ludovic.”

“Don't worry, there still be time fer me to work me skills on ye.” He punctuated that sentence with another chuckle and turned to look at her, pleased to see her scales flush red from the sentence. She was certainly in no position to hide her embarrassment no matter how hard Mocha tried.

She _gently_ slammed her quill down onto the table and looked up to meet his gaze for the first time since he dropped in. She was blushing from the implications of his sentence and the fiery determination in her eyes signalling her turn to reign the situation back to her advantage.

“Well, what do your skills recommend I do, Ludovic?”

Her companion tilted his head for a bit as the gears in his head worked an answer out, turning back to look at her when something finally spawned in that brain of his.

“What about 'angin' out with them kids from the Goblet? I’m sure they wouldn't mind spendin' time with ye.”

Mocha squinted her eyes, trying to recall the last time she visited the FM house.

“It has been a few weeks, yes. Maybe it would be nice to go check in.”

“Atta girl.” Ludovic said, patting her gently on the shoulder—one of the few physical gestures Mocha was comfortable with. “'ang out with them fer a while today. It'll give ye a big burst o' energy.”

“I don’t think I’m _that_ devoid of energy.”

“Ye say that there now, but ye should be enjoyin' yer free time more since ye still be young an' fresh faced.”

Mocha rolled her eyes. She was mature beyond her years! But, alas, Ludovic did have a point here. Perhaps just a few hours to relax and get some nice fresh air wouldn’t hurt her. She gave a rigorous push against the desk and stood up from her chair, working her joints and popping them after spending too many hours seated and at work.

“I suppose a few hours out wouldn’t hurt.” Her eyes slowly drifted back to the desk and the sea of papers, pulled by the sweet temptation of a hard day’s work. Ludovic reached for her shoulders and gently urged her away, unable to fight back against the massive mass of the Highlander.

“Oi, the work will still be 'ere when ye come back! Now go on, be gone already an' go 'ave some fuckin' fun.”

With a groan of despair and agony over the potential loss of work progress, Mocha was led towards the front door of the company house and out towards Thanalan.

* * *

Limsa Lominsa had the pleasure of resting near the vast open sea, gracing the docks with the gentle sounds of the sea and an equally brilliant sea of stars above them. When Mocha had visited the FM company house she was pleased to find Mars and Shrimp hanging out in the front yard, both of whom were eager to travel and hang out with their friend for the evening. This day was special, it seemed—a fish market and festival was taking place in the Aftcastle and the main plaza, meaning every street was lined with all sorts of delicious foods, from rich and savory, to everything in between. It was a cornucopia of overwhelming foods, smells and colorful sights.

“Man, we really lucked out today, didn’t we?” Shrimp said, reaching hold of Mocha’s arm and giving it a warm tug. “There’s so much food! Oh, oh, oh, we should start with the _fish!_ ”

“There is…fish everywhere, Shrimp.” Mars said, a small smile tugging at his lips at the sight of his friend enjoying herself.

“Yeah, okay—but the small fish is the easiest ones to go for!”

Mocha laughed, looking upon her cousin’s bright and energetic face with a small smile of her own.

“The fish isn’t going anywhere, you know. According to the guides, they have enough food to last for quite a few hours.”

“In that case, let’s start over there!” Shrimp made a pointed gesture at one stall a yalm away, manned by a bright eyed Elezen and her Au Ra companion. According to the sign they were selling freshly made takoyaki, and the scent was all but intoxicating and alluring for the auri trio. They walked towards the pair and stared in awe as the Elezen worked her dexterous fingers and chopsticks to flip the fluffy balls of takoyaki around in their vessel. It was so mesmerizing in fact that it wasn’t until the auri women at the stand beckoned for the trio’s attention that they realized how desperately hungry they were.

She was kind enough to offer a taste of the takoyaki to all three of them. Mocha and Shrimp took gentle bites out of the small ball, careful not to burn themselves on the molten lava that was the inside stuffing. Mars, however, had no disregard for proper “roof of the mouth protection” etiquette and tossed the entire takoyaki into his mouth, swallowing it with almost too well practiced ease.

“Oh my.” Said the auri behind the counter. “I have never seen someone try my wife’s takoyaki in that manner. I’m impressed.”

“Sorry, I was a bit hungry.” Mars said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head nervously.

“Don’t be! It makes me happy to know that our food is received with such praise.”

The trio each received their own little paper boat filled with freshly made takoyaki, covering them in eastern mayonnaise and mounds of bonito flakes. They thanked the couple and walked towards the end of the alley, finding a quiet spot near the arcanist guild where the three of them could sit and eat without much disruption.

The takoyaki somehow tasted better this batch around—the insides were warm and toasty, with the octopus just the right bit of chewy and juicy. There were bits of bacon inside each bite, adding a nice bit of crunchy texture to the savory bite. Shrimp practically melted at the flavor profile, a face of heavenly euphoria with each chew.

“Should I be concerned of you drifting off towards the skies?” Mocha asked with a bemused look on her face, watching her cousin all but melt at the first stop on their night out.

“Oh, _Mocha_ , it’s perfect! Come on, eat it before it gets cold!” She was practically melting in her spot, enamored so wildly by the food that she was sure to collapse. “Man, I could use something to down this all with, but I don’t know what could match this…”

“Perhaps some tea?” Mars asked, folding his paper boat into a small, neat square. Mocha and Shrimp looked at him with wide eyed confusion.

“Did you…finish eating already?” Shrimp asked, eyes darting from his hands to his mouth.

Mars nodded.

“D-did you _swallow_ all of it!?”

“No, I chewed a little bit this time.”

That somehow simultaneously answered all their questions, yet left them with a plethora more.

Finishing up their first pit stop on the food train, the trio returned to the alley, looking for refreshments after their hearty meal. They came across two Lalafellian vendors who were offering juices made from various kinds of fruits sourced from local farmers in the La Noscean province. One of the vendors offered them a taste of freshly squeezed watermelon juice; the sweet, refreshing texture slid down the trio’s throats with ease and was a welcome respite from the hearty takoyaki they ate. They each took a cup of the juice and continued their leisurely stroll through Limsa.

The Aftcastle was lively, with beings of all shapes and sizes enjoying the night: walking and talking, sitting and eating, or children running around and playing games with each other. It was a very enjoyed and much love festival by the looks of it. Mocha was very grateful she took the opportunity to leave the free company mansion to take part in this, even if she wasn’t aware that the festival was to happen in the first place. If she had known that she would be missing delicious food and wonderful company, she would most certainly never let herself live it down.

“Man, I’m hungry again.” Shrimp said, tossing her now empty cup of juice into the nearby trash can. “Let’s see if there’s more food to try!”

Mocha laughed, once again caught off guard by her cousin’s neverending bundle of energy and metabolism.

They circled around the Aftcastle and came upon a stall that smelled of delicious charcoal, approaching it and watching a tall Au Ra slowly turn skewered meat over an open flame. He raised his head for a moment to smile at the trio, making a grand gesture toward his collection of grilled fish, meats, and vegetables. Shrimp’s eyes lit up— _finally_ , her time has come! She pointed toward the fish and was delighted at the small tower of food being handed to her on a small paper boat, eyes practically doing all the eating for her. Mars and Mocha also joined her in the fish consumption, ordering skewered fish as well.

It was nothing to scoff at too. Perfectly crisp and crunchy skin gave way to juicy, tender meat that had all the sweet taste from the seasoning and the wood chips the man was using for his cooking. Mocha eyed Mars cautiously, concerned that he might eat the fish whole (including the bones!). She was happy to see that he had taken great care in his meticulous excavation for meat, somehow siphoning off all the meat from the bone cleanly and expertly. Where in this realm were these two learning these skills from?

They sat on a bench and made idle chatter, Mars and Shrimp in particular getting into a heated conversation about the proper intricacies of fish and the best way to serve them. Mocha leaned back and watched the two talk, a small wave of exhaustion rushing through her body. It was not often she was out so late, and it seemed that her habit of sleeping early was slowly starting to catch up to her. Through half lidded eyes she surveyed the rest of the Aftcastle, surprised to see so many crowds of people still here, the stalls still crowded with people who were still bursting with energy.

“Mocha, Mocha, Mocha!” Shrimp bounced closer to her cousin, locking their horns together as she attempted to get her attention.

“Shrimp, I’m not going anywhere.” Mocha replied with a smile, clinking their horns together in abject glee.

“You look tired is all! Mars said we should get some dessert—whatcha in the mood for?”

Mocha tilted her head, not sure what kind of sweets they could possibly find here.

“Crepes would be nice.” Mars said, looking around the Aftcastle. “Perhaps back in the alleys?”

“I like that idea—crepes would be a great way to end the evening.” Shrimp practically bounced off the bench and motioned for her friends to follow back into the alleys near the main plaza.

As they inched closer to the arcanist guild they were set upon a few stalls that sold a few selections of desserts, and to their very surprise they found crepes! This stall in particular made very grandiose crepes, stuffing them with a very rich and thick crème sauce, filling it with fruits of ones choosing, a bunch of syrup, and rolled it all up and topped it with a scoop of ice cream and two cookies. It was absolutely decadent and larger than life, and the trio needed them _right_ now. The stall also supplied a free mug of warm coffee to go with the drink, completing the experience with a perfect combination.

The trio got their stuffed crepes and coffee and moved to a nearby bench, seating themselves and enjoying the fruits of their search. The crepe itself was crunchy and warm, a perfect balance to the smooth and rich ice cream that topped the whole piece. Mocha had a feeling she probably shouldn’t be drinking coffee at this hour, but considering it was a day of stepping out of her comfort zone and trying to _relax_ the least she could do was indulge in a little bad habit. Silence fell across the group again as they enjoyed their luxurious treat, each one utterly satisfied and content with the results of the evening.

“Thank you for inviting us again, Mocha!” Shrimp said with a smile, drinking the last remnants of her coffee.

“No, thank _you_ both for indulging me on such a last-minute request.”

“Ah, don’t mention it. We really didn’t have anything planned, right Mars?”

Mars nodded, giving a small smirk to Mocha.

“We should do this more! I told you that you’re always welcomed to the company house whenever.” Shrimp wrapped her arms around her cousin once more, eyes wide and pleading in a desperate attempt to hypnotize her cousin into believing in her words. She had to give in eventually! All it did though was cause Mocha to laugh, which was a reward in of itself.

“Yes, yes, I am aware. This was another reminder that perhaps I ought to allow myself a few gentle pleasures in life.” Half lidded eyes looked out to the ocean view just a few yalms from them, the gentle and calm sway of the ocean relaxing her and easing her to a relaxed, constant state of being.

“You do, which is why we’re here to make sure you have a nice and relaxing day without worry or regrets.”

“And for that, I’m thankful. Were it not for Ludovic urging me to this, I suspect I would still be stuck behind my desk.” She punctuated the sentence with a sigh of defeat.

Shrimp and Mars quirked and eyebrow at Mocha, unfamiliar with that name—they don’t recall Mocha saying that name around them before.

“Ludovic?” Mars asked, turning to face Mocha fully. “Is that a friend of yours?”

“Yes, he’s another member of my free company.”

“ _Just_ another member?” Shrimp teased with a giggle. It was meant to be a harmful tease, just a dumb comment to keep the mood light and bouncy. Of course, when Mocha suddenly flushed red, well—

“H-he’s just a very nice guy, is all.”

Mocha’s voice betrayed her face, a desperate attempt to sound confident and sidetrack towards the next topic of conversation. Mars was polite enough to just let the toothy, pointed grin of his do the talking for him, but Shrimp took a more direct approach.

“Mocha! Do you have a crush on him?” Her eyes lit up with renewed vigor, reaching for her cousin’s hands with determination. “Oooooh, tell me all about him! I wanna know who he is!”

“Y-you have the _wrong_ idea, I assure you!”

“Aw come on, tell me, I wanna know!” Shrimp bounced in place, a devilish grin spreading across her face. She had her cousin in her grasp, and she wasn’t planning on letting go!

It was unfortunate Mocha could not just vanish herself away at this moment—while she loved her cousin and Mars, she wondered if maybe being too comfortable would be to her unfortunate demise…


	6. a cluttered mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rasa finally makes it to ishgard after the events that took place in the royal promenade. they get rooms at the forgotten knight, and hope to get just a few nights of easy sleep.
> 
> emphasis on "hope".

They ran and ran for as long as their legs could take them, running from Thanalan to the edges of Coerthas as their gazes were turned The Holy See of Ishgard. The cold was unforgiving and violent, whipping against their bodies and striking all of Rasa with mounds of snow and wind. Alphinaud and Tataru remained by their side, both following the group as they sought sanctuary in the only other city-state that they could turn to after the bloody banquet they had to bear witness too. Stress and tension was high between the group—they could not return to their homes, to their grand companies, or even to the free company house for comfort. They had to endure the cold, harsh realities of Ishgard and all that it brought.

The Forgotten Knight provided comfort and temporary warmth on their first day, the group thankful for the roaring fire that greeted them in the inn. X’hrie and Mocha negotiated a stay, thankful that the Scion’s name had not been sullied yet around these parts. The rooms would not be ready for a few hours, however, forcing Tabula Rasa to momentarily hang out by the bar and tend to much needed alcohol. In most circumstances they would be more than happy to drown themselves in drink and have a little fun—but tonight was most certainly not one of those nights, and won’t be for some time, they figured.

The alcohol was cheap and strong all things considered. A single sip nearly tossed Mocha right into the ground, causing her to drink it at an agonizingly slow pace. She was seated at a table with Bibica, Rai’ji and Ludovic, each one already a few cups into their wait. X’hrie, Zeta, Alena and Serina had taken their seats at the bar, making idle chatter all the while. The warmth of the building combined with the alcohol helped ease everyone’s into a calmer, more relaxed mood as they waited for their rooms. They’d have a whole floor to themselves, which would prove useful to reconvene and plan out their next steps for their time here in Ishgard.

After an hour of idle chatter and relaxation a small throng of Elezen men made their way into the bar. They were loud and rowdy, and all of Rasa was doing what they could to ignore the noise that the men made as they walked down the stairs and towards the bar. One black haired Elezen that seemed to be leading the pack squinted at the site of the company, seated, and minding their own business. He went over to the bartender, Girbillont, and spoke to him with a worried look on his face, almost panicked by the site of people in the bar. Rasa paid him no mind, not having the energy nor the time to involve themselves in whatever this man was thinking.

But if there has been anything that they have learned by now is that trouble just has a bad habit of following them everywhere.

The man slowly inched closer to Zeta and gave him a grimace, hostility evident in his eyes. X’hrie tilted her head and looked over to the Elezen, her companion unperturbed by the man next to him.

“Is there a problem, sir?” She asked. Zeta continued to pay the man no mind, reading from the small book he had in his hand.

The Elezen man spoke, his posse slowly making their way around the bar.

“ _Oui_ , we do. Who are you? Why are you here in _our_ bar?” His voice was slick with hostility and it seemed like he was just one retaliation away from throwing hands—that, and Zeta’s complete disregard for this man’s existence would also be a quick way to anger him.

“We’re here for _private_ matters, sir. Please leave us be.” X’hrie kept that cool, calm voice of hers as levelheaded as possible. She was exhausted and tired and slightly inebriated, and most certainly _not_ in the mood to deal with this man’s attitude at this time. Gibrillont approached the man and scolded him, telling him to knock it off lest they’d be thrown out of the bar. The Elezen man looked back in wide-eye horror, taking grave offense to what he was being told.

“This is _our_ bar, not these foreigners! And especially not to those…those _dragonkin_!” He said, making crude gestures to Zeta, Mocha, and Serina. The three of them were quite certain the progenitors of their tribes weren’t some vile, horrific beasts that this Elezen was implying, but neither of them really had the energy to argue. A blonde-haired Elezen broke off from the posse and approached the table Mocha was seated at, eyes moving up and down her body as a cocky grin tugged across his face. His grin was making Mocha wildly uncomfortable, the hunger in it making her wish she was resting quietly in her room.

“I dunno Renoir, these dragonkin don’t look all too menacing. This one is kinda…” He took a step closer to Mocha, causing her to scoot her seat further from him, Bibica and Ludovic slowly lifting themselves from their seats in defense.

“Listen here buddy, you keep givin’ my little Mocha that look and I’mma knock your eyes out.” Bibica said, gripping tight her tankard in preparation for tossing it at high velocity. The blonde haired Elezen gave a weak scoff, starting to be perturbed by the rowdy Lalafell that was staring him down. He was _also_ quite terrified of Ludovic staring him down with equal fury, noticing very sharp and pointy daggers wrapped around his waist.

“Tch. The state of this bar. Can’t believe you’d let _foreigners_ and _dragonkin_ into what’s very little comforts we have.” Renoir said, slicking back his black hair to look at the bartender. Every word that came out of his mouth was full of fire and vitriol, a marker of the old habits that Ishgard had kept up all these centuries. He moved closer to Zeta, continuing his antagonistic rampage at the auri in front of him. “And you! Can’t you see I’m talking to you!?”

Zeta slipped his bookmark between the pages and turned to look at the man fully.

“Apologies, I was very enthralled with my book. Is this important?”

There was a beat that followed Zeta’s words. Maybe it was how casual and nonchalant he said it, or maybe it was because Renoir was running a dangerous, murderous high. The Elezen was fuming with anger, his hands shot towards Zeta’s collar and tossed him against the bar—in turn causing a mad scramble of hell to be loose in the poor little bar.

X’hrie and Serina went on the offensive, drawing their weapons and pointing them directly at Renoir. Alena quickly summoned forth her ifrit-egi, the overwhelming might of the summon instilling fear and terror into the other Elezen by the stairs who had the forethought to _immediately_ dash up the stairs and bolt out of the door.

The blonde haired Elezen attempted to take advantage of the fright and reached for Mocha, dragging her by the arm and causing her to stumble and crash onto the floor with a loud thud. He kept a tight grip on Mocha’s arm until a full powered punch crushed his face, sending him tumbling a few fulms away. Ludovic rolled up his sleeved and grabbed hold of the man with determined fury, causing Renoir to look over from the bar towards the scene.

“If ye don't want me to bust yer mate's skull open, ye better fuck off _now_.” Ludovic said through grit teeth, slamming the Elezen in his clutches against the wall closest to the stairs.

Renoir looked at the scene around him, the blinding fury seemingly to subside from his face. To his immediate right he could see the pointed weaponry of a greatsword and staff, as well as a voracious summon lingering above the pair. And _now_ one of his mates was most likely one bad move away from having his neck snapped—they were at a disadvantage. What he thought were just run of the mill visitors may have turned into a great disadvantage that threatened their very lives.

“Sir? I’d rather not stab you. Please, get off me.”

Renoir looked down at Zeta, that state of complete apathy still setting off something in the Elezen. He felt a metal object close in on his side, a sharp point grazing his skin. With great reluctance and spite Renoir let go of Zeta, raising his hands up in defeat.

“You lot better watch yourself here. Next time it won’t be so easy.” He spat out, gritting his teeth and walking up the staircase. Ludovic gave one last toss to his companion and shoved him towards the stairs, watching the pair leave all the while. He turned and walked towards Mocha, who was flanked by Rai’ji and Bibica—thankfully she was now seated on a nearby chair.

A collective sigh let loose through everyone in the bar—glad to see that entire scene was done and over with. Exhaustion came back with renewed vigor in their bodies, however, and they were more than happy to finally properly relax, as they awaited their rooms to be finished.

* * *

Mocha hadn’t been sleeping well the past few months. There were scattered moments of good nights, where she got the proper 8 hours of sleep that she loved, but for the most part it was fitful and rough. She had no idea being a Warrior of Light would be so stressful and aggressive, and the last year here in Eorzea felt like one hell of a rush. The last few nights running from Ul’dah was no different; the loss of her friends, of the banquet going to disarray, and now having to traverse across continents to find momentary salvation in the cold hells of Ishgard. She needed rest, if only for just one day.

She lifted herself off from her bed and stretched, feeling the aches and pains of the past few days hitting her like a brick. The sun had settled, and stars began their slow descent of visibility in the sky, speckles of snow falling onto the stony visage of the city around them. The glass was cold to her touch despite the roaring fire that was kindled and lit up across her bed. Mocha wondered if she’d be able to get back to bed, but a sudden knock on her door answered the train of thought for her.

With a lazy hazy look to her, Mocha went over to the large, heavy oaken door and opened it. She was greeted by the faces of her two dear companions- Ludovic and Bibica.

“What are you two doing here?” Mocha asked, rubbing the sleep out of her eye. Bibica gave wide grin and pointed to Ludovic behind her, who was leaning against the door frame nonchalantly.

“Aye, this here ain’t entirely me plan!” Ludovic pointed a finger back down at Bibi, scrunching his face in annoyance. “This here little bastard been really worried, an' wanted to check up on ye.”

“Yeah, but I do believe _you_ were already here at her door, Ludovic!”

“It be a coincidence, then!”

Mocha laughed, pleased to see the two of them bickering over her health. She rested a hand on their shoulders in a attempt to get the two to relax for a moment.

“I appreciate the gesture, you two. I’m a bit bruised up but nothing I cannot handle on my own.”

“Well, that be good then.” Ludovic said, crossing his arms. “'ad me thinkin' we'd need to babysit ye all day.”

“And who wouldn’t want spend all day hanging out with my lil’ Mocha?” Bibica said, tenting her fingers together with a smile. “Want me to do another healing spell on you honey? It’ll help you sleep better!”

Mocha rubbed the back of her head—she _was_ still a little sore…maybe just a small healing spell would be just what she needed. She gave a small nod to Bibica’s pleasure, causing the Lalafell to jump in place. A somewhat disappointed and defeated look came Ludovic’s face, who simply shrugged.

“Well I'll set sail ye to it then. Magic sure as 'ell ain't me forte.” He put his hands in his pockets before looking back at Mocha, a soft gaze on his face as he looked at her. It felt like he was searching her eyes for something, but Mocha wasn’t quite sure what it could have been. “Glad to see ye feelin' better. Get lots o' rest, okay?”

The soft smile he gave her at the end of the sentence was… _different_ , a send off that was unfamiliar and warmer. Mocha wasn’t sure Ludovic was capable of such a gesture, certain it was the first time she’d ever seen it from him.

She could have sworn her heart skipped a beat, but perhaps that was just the tug of a muscle aching in her chest. Surely that was it.

Ludovic departed and left the two girls to their own devices, to which Bibica’s first instinct was to push Mocha back into her room and lead her to the plush, warm bed tucked in the corner. She dragged a stepstool to her and climbed it, a wicked smile on her face all the while.

“So…you and Ludovic…” She began, reaching for Mocha’s left arm and placing a gentle hand on her upper arm. It began to pulse and illuminate a soft, white-green glow, and the little auri could feel the soothing waves of mana flowing through her. “What’s up with you two, hun?”

Mocha raised an eyebrow at her friend, confused by the statement.

“I…don’t think I know of what you mean, Bibica.”

Bibica, in turn, gave a dramatic roll of the eyes towards Mocha.

“Please don’t make _me_ say it, hun.”

“I…um…”

The magic stopped, Bibica reaching over to Mocha’s face and giving an affectionate poke to her nose.

“When are you and Ludovic gonna stop making googly eyes at each other?!” Her voice was stern yet soft, knowing very well that the proclamation would cause Mocha to all but fold over in her seat.

And to her (not so) surprise, Mocha did in fact practically set ablaze with embarrassment.

“I…I haven’t the _slightest_ idea of what you’re talking about, truly.” Mocha stammered, resting a hand on her chest—she was certain her heart was beating loud enough for even the Twelve above to hear. Bibica was of course, not having it in the slightest. She tapped her leg against the stool, putting her hands on her hips and pouting at Mocha. Her sisterly instincts were kicking into high gear, and she was desperately trying to restrain herself from saying _too much_ to sweet little Mocha.

“Hun…don’t lie to me.” She poked Mocha’s nose again. “I see how soft he is to you! Ludovic is _never_ that nice to anyone! He’s always checking up on you, getting you drinks when you’re working hard in the office, making you _sweets_!”

Mocha bunched her hands into her pants, avoiding Bibica’s gaze as she suffocated her with word after word.

“I’m sure he only does that because—”

Another poke to her nose, and the little auri’s train of thought was silenced.

“ _Because_ you are incredibly _cute,_ and he wants to _smooch you_!”

If there were fires in the hells below, they could not possibly match the intensity that were ablaze in Mocha’s cheeks right now.

“I…um, y-you see…” Her constant stammering was already a massive indicator of how incredibly flustered she was, but there was truly no better way to get Mocha to accept _anything_ unless the flames of Byreghot were alive in her whole body.

“Am I wrong, hun?” Bibica said with a little more gentleness this time. Despite being completely in the right, she remembered that Mocha could be quite…fragile when it comes to matters of this calibre. “You two have been running in circles for some time—I’ve seen the way you get all relaxed and chill when he’s around too! Stealing glances at him when he’s not looking and getting all smiley and stuff!”

Mocha bit her lip.

“Nothing escapes you, huh, Bibica?”

“Ha, absolutely not!” She reached for Mocha’s arm again and drifted her hands to her forearm, hands illuminating once more with mana as she continued her work. She was here for this reason, after all! “Someone’s gotta keep an eye on you, but I get the feeling Ludovic’s been doing that for a lot longer than I give him credit more.”

Mocha had relaxed a lot more now, despite how red faced she still was.

“I…um, never quite realized the severity of his…um…”

“Love?”

“No! No, no, no, by the Twelve no—”

Bibica looked up at Mocha, brushing aside her bangs and quirking her eyebrow.

“ _Mocha_.”

“Y-yes, Bibica?”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself hun, or else I’ll pinch you _very_ hard.”

The prospect of more pain was not on Mocha’s agenda! She took a deep breath to try and calm herself, steeling her nerves for more of this conversation that Bibica was more than content to continue. It’s not like she didn’t _want_ to have this conversation—it was more so she wasn’t really one to know what to say at a time like this. Affection and love were things Mocha had for her friends, for those in her free company, Hazel and the rest of the FM gang, and those in the Scions.

To have it for a single individual, to feel a sudden warmth in her chest at the sight of someone and feeling a familiar comfort in their presence…it was something Mocha knew she had for Ludovic, knew that there might be something more.

But how could _she_ of all people, possibly put that into words that someone else could understand. Because she sure as hell couldn’t convey it into words without flustering and tripping over herself like if it were her first time learning how to speak.

“I apologize, I just…don’t exactly know how to deal with all this. It’s all…foreign to me.” Mocha said, her voice low and soft, feeling slightly embarrassed for her earlier actions. Bibica gave a reassuring pat on her head, ruffling her rose pink hair as a gesture of affection.

“Oh, I know that hun! You spend all your time working really hard, but you oughta give yourself a little treat you know!”

“You aren’t the first person to tell me that…” Mocha chuckled, a bit embarrassed once more. She _really_ needed to break this horribly habit of hers.

“And for good reason! You spend so much time caught up in carrying all these burdens that we gotta pry you from your desk!”

Bibica finished the second round of healing and sat down at the top of the stepstool, gently swaying her legs and propping her elbows on her knees. She looked up at Mocha, trying to read her friend’s face, gauging her reaction. Bibica was often a tease for sure, being of almost equal measure to Ludovic at times when it comes to getting Mocha to relax and let loose every now and then. She cared for her greatly and didn’t want the poor girl to spend all her best days cooped up and being overburdened with work that others have tossed to her.

She knew that Ludovic and Mocha liked each other, and the least she could do was help Mocha realize that she deserved a little fun and love in her life.

“I don’t mean to cause a fuss, hun. But I’m just saying…next time Ludovic gets all soft on you, throw him a little something back! You’ll feel all warm and fuzzy inside.”

Mocha quirked an eyebrow, eyes sweeping the floor as she attempted to digest Bibica’s words.

“It will be awkward at first, I don’t know if he will be okay with that…”

“I’m sure he’s gonna expect it, truly.”

“You think so?”

Bibica nodded.

“No offense, but you don’t probably have years of flirting under your belt, right?”

Mocha gave an embarrassed nod. Oh, there was _so_ much to learn. Bibica tapped her leg against the stool, a small smile on her face as she looked at her little auri companion.

“I seem to underestimate what I’ve gotten myself into.”

“Well, you lose nothing from trying, you know?” Bibi tented her fingers once more and placed them under her chin. “Ah, to be young and in love for the first time…I envy you, hun.”

“I…suppose you have a point.” Mocha chuckled, bringing a hand up to rub away the waves of sleep that were running through her body once more. “I guess I lose nothing by…trying, I guess.”

Bibica reached over and gave an affirmative pat on her friend’s arm.

“Attagirl! Get that dick!”

Whatever gentle, calm, and safe mood that was in the room all but dissipated at the mention of Ludovic’s… _nether regions._ Mocha scoffed, taken aback by the sentence as she almost collapsed back onto the bed. Bibica gave a wide and knowing smile. She knew _exactly_ what she said.

“Bibica, y-you can’t just _say_ that!” Mocha exclaimed, scrambling and tripping over her words as she was completely shell shocked by the words.

“Yes, I can hun! I can be a loving, reassuring big sister and be honest with you!” She winked and stuck her tongue out at Mocha, once again revelling in the moment. Poor little Mocha just made this far too easy, unfortunately.

Her little auri companion let out a large sigh that melted into small, gentle laughter. She was tired from, well, _everything_ that’s been happening the past few days. Despite the aches and the pains, she was grateful that she was able to find moments of laughter and relaxation—even if it was at her unfortunate embarrassment.

She watched as Bibica gentle stepped off the stool and tucked it nearly back into the corner. With a large yawn she stretched and slowly made her way towards the wooden doors, Mocha lifting herself off from the bed and following suit, reaching out for the door and opening it for her friend.

“Bibica, did you really find Ludovic here already?” She asked, keeping a firm grip on the door. Bibica nodded, causing Mocha to blush once more.

“I admit I _was_ here to see if you needed some quick healing, but when I saw him standing here like a lil’ nervous kid I figured I’d work my sisterly magic on both of you.” Bibica crossed her arms and sighed with a smile. “I’m just saying, if you guys don’t figure something out, I’ll have to work even harder…”

Mocha laughed at the thought—she would hate to drag Bibica even further into this (apparent) ordeal than she already has. Bibica reached out one final time and gave a confident pat onto Mocha’s forearm, smiling all the while.

“I’m being serious, if you don’t start giving yourself breaks, hun, I’m gonna start making them for you!”

“Are you implying I’m going to go to my desk one day and find a bottle of wine there?” Mocha said with a smirk.

Bibica took a moment to consider her words, tapping a finger on her chin.

“Maybe not just a bottle of wine…If I’m gonna get you a gift to impress Ludovic with, I’m gonna make sure you go _all the way_!”

A beat followed as Bibica stood there with a wide grin on her face, allowing Mocha time to digest the information—and was pleased to be rewarded with yet another flustered Mocha face. Her little auri companion let out a small cough in an attempt to regain her composure, but her red and flushed scales were too good at giving away her state of being.

“I…um…th-thank you for your assistance in this.”

“Of _course_! _Anytime_ , hun.”

Bibica laughed, waving goodbye to Mocha as she finally departed. She really, really was going to be the death of Mocha one of these days.


	7. if i had the time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rasa finds themselves helping out at falcon's nest as they take a "break" from the dragonsong war.
> 
> and mocha realizes that she really needs to get better at healing.

The snow billowed around Falcon’s Nest at a violent pace, slinging piles of snow and wind against Rasa once more. They’d been in Ishgard for the past few weeks, finding themselves enthralled in the claws of the Dragonsong War _as well as_ trying to find out what happened to the Scions after the night of the banquet. They were thankful for the first few days of rest they had when they first arrived at the city-state after the ordeal they went through—but alas, all good things must come to an end.

Today they were to help clear out some of the beasts that roamed in the northern parts of the Western Highlands to help the already overworked and overburdened soldiers. They decided to divide themselves into two groups to cover more ground—Zeta, X’hrie, Alena, and Serina would take the northwest front while Ludovic, Mocha, Rai’ji and Bibica took to the northeastern front. The two groups battled the knee-deep snow and wind that threatened to catapult them off the cliffside and into the endless vastness down below. They were as prepared as they could be for the snow, given the new gear they’d acquire in Ishgard, but the cold was still a beast on a level neither of them could’ve been prepared for.

The northeastern group were crossing black iron bridge when the snow momentarily subsided and a collective sigh let loose from all four of them. Rai’ji leaned against the black metal walls and took out a map of the region, the other three crowding around him.

“Okay…Think if I’m reading this right up, we should go straight to the right here and…that should start us around Greytail Falls.” He trailed his fingers along the marked roads as he spoke, trying to mentally mark off the list of enemies they could encounter.

“Well, 'opefully we finish before the stupid snow starts up again. At this rate me fuckin' goods be fixin' to come clean off.” Ludovic said, rubbing his hands together in a desperate attempt to get the friction to work heat though his hands. “This here 'ow ye always be feeling, Mocha? This here cold shite be rough.”

Mocha laughed, adjusting the wool hat she was wearing and turning to face Ludovic as she spoke.

“Just because I run cold doesn’t mean I can stand the extreme temperatures, Ludovic. Even _I_ have my limits.”

She always ran on the colder sides of temperature—maybe it was because she had voidkin blood or dragonkin blood or _Halone knows what_ , but Mocha was almost always cool to the touch. While the cold didn’t bother her as much as it did her companions, she did certainly could not stand the intense winds and snow that kept smacking against her whenever she traveled along the snowy parts of Coerthas.

After a few moments to gather their bearings the group made their way eastward after crossing the bridge, enjoying the moments of peace brought from the clear skies and the bright, shinning sun. Moments like these were rare according to the soldiers at Falcon’s Nest, with the unpredictable weather making it impossible to coordinate more organized movement across the lands. The four endeavored to sweep through the region as fast as they could, lest they get swept up and lost in one of the many, _many_ snowstorms that made it a habit of plaguing the region.

As they approached the sights of the Ninth Vare tower the clear visage of dragons came into view—a small grouping of archaeornis spotted the path up to the tower. The four of them hid behind a large pile of rocks, surveying the area and preparing for a plan of attack.

“I see about 8 of those little troublemakers.” Bibica whispered, shielding her eyes from the blinding white snow in front of them.

“Perhaps we should take them one at a time then.” Mocha started, trying to formulate a plan on the fly. “I would hate for us to be overwhelmed by their numbers.”

“Well it’s a good thing we got some fancy casters here that can shoot them from far away!” Rai’ji said, his eyes darting between Mocha and Bibica. “You guys can just take shots from them and knock ‘em out that way.”

“For all my magical prowess, I don’t think a single cast would be enough to defeat them.” Mocha reached for her rapier, fingers wrapped tightly around the hilt. “I could give it a worthy try, if you so desire.”

“Maybe like…try to get it back here and we can finish it off that way?”

Mocha stood up, keeping a close eye towards the archaeornis closest to the group.

“I’ve got your back, hun!” Bibica said, gripping her oak staff tightly in her arms. With a nod Mocha began to cast her spell, holding her magicked crystal against the hilt of her rapier as she released a powerful blast of fire. It collided with the dragon with great impact, staggering it and causing it to let out a roar of anger and pain—it bared its teeth as it searched around for the source of the attack, making a mad dash away from its pack and towards the group.

As it reached closer, Rai’ji made the first assault. He dashed in and gave the dragon a flurry of blows across it’s body, using his dexterous movements to overwhelm and confuse the dragon—but it’s hide was tough and strong, the flurry of fists doing very little to stop the dragon fully in its tracks. Ludovic attempted to provide backup with his knives, digging them deep within the crevices of the beast’s scales, hoping to pry them off and expose a weak spot underneath—but the archaeornis was wild and angry, sparing no quarter as it attempted to bite and swing at the pair with murderous intent. Rai’ji could move past the beast with very little issue, his years training as a monk giving him near perfect balance and dexterity.

Ludovic, however, was not so lucky. The rowdy beast managed to get a few swipes at him, sharp nails digging themselves into his armor and tearing across his clothing with relative ease. Were it not for the thick clothing he had on to protect him from the cold he would have certainly received graver injuries—but it proved to be his savior, reducing the impact of the claws to nothing more than light grazes across his skin. But his clothing would not last long at this rate. The beast needed to die fast.

Bibica and Mocha did what they could with their magic. They blasted the beast with a flurry of magic on their end, the combined efforts of black & white magic, as well as elemental magic proving to be somewhat more effective against the beast’s skin, wearing it down and pushing it back against the ground.

“This sure be takin’ a while!” Ludovic exclaimed, fending off the beast’s jaws with his knives, bracing them against its open maw. He knocked back the archaeornis with an aggressive kick while Rai’ji came back to uppercut it into the ground once more.

“Well you got anything up your sleeve then!?” Rai’ji’s scream betrayed a sense of dread and anxiety—this was taking too long, and if this is how only one was going, he was worried how they were going to handle the rest of these. With a cheeky grin Ludovic stepped back, reaching into his pack and pulling out a small musket and a robust, metal contraption.

“Ye bet I do. Keep em busy fer me, will ye?”

“You want me to do _what_!?” Rai’ji’ screamed once more as the archaeonis roared in frustration. Mocha ran close to the dragon, closing in on it and swiping her rapier against it. They had no idea what Ludovic had up their sleeve, but it had better be worth the risk!

Ludovic tightened the metal contraption around his waist and twisted a few knobs, causing it to illuminate and roar to life with a crackle of bright blue electricity. His musket reacted in kind, the barrel extended a fulm in length, sparks of blue electricity sprouting from it as well. He kneeled down and took aim with towards the beast, looking for an opening between the blows from Rai’ji and Mocha. With a sharp intake Ludovic aimed and fired, a bullet whizzing through the air at high speed, piecing itself right between archaeonis’ head with powerful impact. The beast shook and roared in pain, blood pouring out from the wound as it collapsed to the ground and writhed in pain and agony, life finally withering away in its body.

The group was still for a moment as they watched the dragon, making sure it was truly dead. Mocha moved closer to it and poked her rapier at it—it didn’t react, lying motionless and still at her touch. A collective sigh of relief was let out by the team, happy to see the beast finally defeated. They turned to face the remaining 7 dragons—

All of whom heard the loud shot of a gun being fired at one of their kin, and were making their way towards the four.

“You better fucking have more ammo, Vic!” Rai’ji said, panicking once more at the gravity of the situation. Ludovic twisted a knob on the metal contraption and the gun fired up to life once more.

“Aye, gots me plenty more where that came from.”

There was a rush of pressure through everyone’s bodies as the archaeonis descended upon them, the beasts attempting to overwhelm them with vicious, unpredictable movements. They attempted to swipe and bite at the team, some even attempting to headbutt into them as they roared out in voracious fury. The four did their best to fight back against the onslaught, weaving magic, punches and bullets together in a desperate attempt to clear out the enemies. They felt a chill up their spines and against their faces as the wind picked up, the sound of gusts blowing against them and the dragons they faced. Snow was suddenly pelted against them, the gentle flakes they had come to appreciate suddenly turning into righteous, angered flurries that increased in velocity.

Ludovic grimaced, feeling the cold numbing his fingers against the trigger of his gun, the cold metal sending sharp stabs of pain against his skin, forcing him to stop and rub his hands together for warmth. An archaeonis ran directly towards him, jaw open and preparing to take a wide open bite at his skin. Mocha reacted first, quickly casting a bolt of stone at the dragon and sending it flying off it’s course, causing it to crash off the cliff and into the valley below. She ran over to Ludovic with simultaneous worry and anger in her eyes.

“Careful, Lestrade! You could have gotten hurt!” She raised her voice against the wind, slipping into old habits as the gravity of the situation caused her to be on high alert. Ludovic hated when Mocha did that, but was letting it slide since there were far more pressing matters to attend.

“Aye, aye, I know! This here fuckin' cold be a pain in the ass to deal with, ye know!” He replied, taking a tight grip on his musketoon once more.

They were now up against an aggressive blizzard, visibility stalled to a halt as a thick veil of misty snow clouded their visions. Mocha cried out for Rai’ji and Bibica, unable to see barely a few fulms in front of her and Ludovic. Worry and bile rose in her throat as anxiety took hold—she knew they were both capable, but not being able to see or hear them made the little auri worry tremendously. This was supposed to be a simple mission and it had suddenly just turned into something _worse_.

She could feel the weight of Ludovic’s hand on her shoulder, attempting to calm her and shake her out of this state of mind. As she turned to face him a violent roar pieced through the whipping winds and the black, hulking form of an archaeonis approached them. Mocha gripped her rapier tight and stared down the beast with violent intent, just wanting this mess to be over and done with once and for all.

The beast dashed forward recklessly, barring its teeth, and letting out another roar as it moved. Ludovic let loose another shot from his musketoon, hitting the beast in it’s wing and causing it to stagger and trip forward. Mocha moved in and gave a three combo strike, cutting through the beasts scales with her rapier aglow with deep red flames. As she prepared to flip out of danger the archaeonis raised its body at her and pushed, ramming its head against her stomach and knocking her back a few fulms. Ludovic rushed to her side in a panic, fighting against the snow and the wind to reach her side. The dragon staggered back to its feet and rushed to them once more, determined to kill them both once and for all.

It was slower this time, the combined forces of Mocha and Ludovic weakening it significantly, but it’s desire for blood remained untouched. Ludovic fired another barrage of bullets at the beast but it kept its pace, openings it’s jaw once more as it moved towards its prey. It pounced and pushed Ludovic to the ground, sending them both flying back a few fulms. Ludovic felt the back of his head make contact with the edge of the cliff, the severity of this situation rising up his spine as he was pinned against the snowy ground, his gun the only barrier between him and certain death. His eyes searched around for something, _anything_ that could get him out of this situation.

Through the corner of his eyes he saw the glint of his all too familiar and trusty knife. Ludovic put all his effort into gripping his gun tight with one hand while the other scrambled for the blade, cold and stiff fingers gripping the leather handle tight. He put all his might into the swing and stabbed the archaeonis in between its scales, digging the knife deep into its exposed flesh. Blood burst through the injury, coating Ludovic and the pure white snow near him. It writhed and shook above him but it’s grip remained tight on his gun, causing Ludovic to resort to kicking it off with his boot.

But it held on and on, refusing to budge at all—what on earth were these things made out of? A small degree of worry rose in Ludovic’s mind as the severity of the situation caused him to kick with more fervor, desperately wanting to go check up on Mocha and the rest of the team and return back to base. The combined efforts of the wind, the snow, and now this stupid dragon were causing him to get riled up and angry, one final boot to the beast’s belly finally rocketing it off him.

Except, the trajectory of the kick was all off.

Holding tightly to the gun the heavy corpse of the dragon flew backwards down to the valley, Ludovic’s grip still on the gun. His arm twisted back and with a groan of pain Ludovic’s body was dragged down into the endless, dark valley below.

* * *

Mocha wondered if her stomach was more trouble than it was worth. First was the incident with Lahabrea which ended with her body permanently susceptible to Ascian magicks, meaning that at any moment when she is weakest, she would be the perfect vessel for an Ascian in need of a body. Papalymo and Y’shtola did what they could to sew together the parts of her aether to strengthen its ties with her soul, but there was only so much they could do. She could no longer falter, no longer allow for weakness in what she did—Mocha had to be strong and ready at all times, lest she fall to the Ascian’s evil clutches.

This of course, turned out to be a failure on her part, a moment of weakness caused her to be knocked out in the cold, leaving Ludovic alone to deal with the dragon. It brought her no measure of relief to awaken to him nowhere in sight, and instead to awaken to a splatter of blood in the snow. The wind and the snow continued their relentless assault, Mocha herself being half covered in snow when she awoke, much to her dismay. She slowly staggered to her feet, clutching her stomach as the pain began to pulse through her body—but she could not be dismayed, she _had_ to find Ludovic, to make sure he was okay.

Her first instinct was to look over the cliff side, peering down into the dark abyss below. It had to have a floor, right? And with how often it snows, perhaps the landing was soft?

So many questions and possibilities ran through Mocha’s head as she traversed down a nearby slope, hand clutching the wall as she walked down with great care. She felt a great sense of relief as her strength came back to her slowly, and was equally pleased to see the lack of snow and wind down here. Though the sun did not reach down here there was a soft glow to everything, the ice walls illuminating everything down here as she walked. It would have been a serene experience were it not for the fact that Mocha’s anxiety was skyrocketing and would continue to shoot up until she found her companion alive and well.

The bottom was covered in a layer of ankle high snow, causing each step Mocha took to let out a satisfying _crunch_ sound. But it was not only pure white snow that she found, but also a crackling fire just a few yalms away. She approached it slowly, keeping a tight grip on her rapier until a familiar Hyur came into view—smoking a cigarette, nonetheless.

“Aye, good afternoon, sleepyhead.” Ludovic said. His voice sounded pained and hoarse, but he was alive. Worse for wear, but very much alive. A massive sigh of relief left Mocha’s body as she ran towards him, tossing herself at him as she wrapped her arms around him, holding him in a tight hug. Ludovic stilled his arms in the air for a moment, trying to process what was happening. _Mocha_ was _hugging_ him? Surely this must be a hallucination, because he was quite certain there was no way this could realistically be happening.

But it was happening. How else could he explain Mocha’s scales poking and scratching along his neck, or the feeling of her tiny frame against him? Against all known decorum he’d come to adapt to when it came to Mocha, he wrapped his arms around her and let out a weak laugh.

“I didn’t think ye was capable o' givin' people 'ugs, Mocha.” He said, giving her a gentle pat on the back. At that he could feel Mocha tense up and eject herself from his grasp, her face flush red as she scrambled back from him and back to the familiarity of distance that they both were accustomed too. Awkwardness hung in the air—Ludovic mentally cursing himself for even uttering the thought out loud, while Mocha cursed herself for even going so far as too hug him.

Now they knew what it felt like to embrace each other, a boundary now crossed.

“Are you, um…do you need me to heal you?” Mocha muttered, trying to regain her composure. She wanted to hug him oh so badly, an unfamiliar ache washing through her body that caused her to fidget in place. She thought back to the conversation she had with Bibica just a few weeks ago, wondering if it was really okay to just let go for once.

“Nothin' I can't, uh, 'andle. Don't worry about it.” Ludovic tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, using his cigarette as an excuse to smother the smile he had on his face. He knew she had boundaries and was doing everything in his power to respect her—he would not lay a hand on her, despite how much he wanted to hold her again. He watched as Mocha grabbed hold of her magicked crystal and inched slowly back towards him.

“Are you sure? You fell a long way you know. Plus, you have all this blood on you.”

“Oh, this here? This be all that stupid dragon's blood, I promise ye.” Ludovic crushed the cigarette in his hands and tossed it aside. “That dragon ended up worse than me, thankfully. But if ye be that worried, I ain't stoppin' ye.”

Mocha took that as something of an invitation, seating herself next to him while being hyper aware of the distance between them. She placed the crystal on Ludovic’s chest and closed her eyes, trying to concentrate on a simple Vercurse spell amidst the lingering awkwardness between them. Her healing potency was about as useful as a fork in a bowl of soup, but it was the least Mocha could do for friend at a time like this. The crystal pulsed out a soft green-white glow, Ludovic feeling the aches and pains of the day ease away with every pulse of mana through his body.

“How did you fall down here, Lestrade?” There she goes again with the formalities—it was obvious to Ludovic that the embarrassment was hitting her hard, still. “Did that archaeonis knock you down here?”

“Nah. Stupid thin' 'ad a grip on me gun an' wasn't lettin' go. It...may 'ave tumbled back an' took me with it. Got lucky an' landed on it be corpse instead o' the ground.” He said it so nonchalantly that it stirred Mocha’s concentration momentarily, her spell slowing down as she opened her eyes to look at Ludovic properly. Shite, were her eyes always so…bright?

“Why didn’t you let go of the gun then? You could have gotten yourself killed!” Mocha said with a pout, tightening her grip on her crystal. Ludovic tilted his head as he pondered the question before he looked back at Mocha.

“Well the gun was bloody expensive to make. No way was I goin' to let some stupid dragons ruin a fine piece o' work I made.”

Mocha let out a noise of frustration and closed her eyes again, pushing the crystal of hers harder against Ludovic’s chest, causing him to let out a hearty laugh at her reaction.

“I’ll show you a piece of work…” She mumbled. Ludovic scoffed, completely taken aback by Mocha’s comment. Was she _sassing_ him? He leaned into her, causing her to squeak out a gasp from the sudden movement.

“What was that Mocha?” He said, purposefully lowering and deepening his voice as he spoke to her. “I don't think I 'eard ye very well.”

She reacted immediately, her scaled flushed red with embarrassment. She tilted her head farther down, hiding her face from him as she kept her focus on healing him. Of course, Ludovic didn’t need to look at her to know Mocha was embarrassed from being caught in the act of showing some degree of emotion.

“I…um, I _said_ ,” Mocha stammered out, attempting to collect and compose herself. “I’ll show you…I’ll show you how _horrible_ I am at healing.” She lifted her free hand up to her face, tucking an errant strand of her hair behind her horn. Her mind was scattering at a violent degree, and it was all because of Ludovic.

“Aye, ye be pretty mediocre at it—but ye be tryin' to save me life 'ere.” He moved slowly, lifting his left hand to hover near her shoulder. She flinched immediately, not anticipating the reaction from him. But Mocha did nothing and said nothing. She didn’t brush him off, scold him for touching her or anything—he tested his luck by resting his hand against her shoulder feeling her usual tense body relax against him slowly.

Ludovic leaned in closer to her, his eyes momentarily drifting to her lips before darting right back to her eyes, half-lidded eyes looking at her softly. There was that gentle stare that Mocha had grown accustomed to receiving from him, the very same look that caused all coherent thought in Mocha’s brain to vanish.

“I'll 'ave to repay ye fer savin' me life, Mocha.” He whispered gently to her. Mocha let out a small noise—something between a gasp of surprise and a whimper of approval. But then again, maybe it was all just Ludovic’s imagination, considering how everything up until this moment had felt like a fever dream.

They were still like that for a moment, Mocha’s heart slamming against her chest as such a high velocity that she was sure it would rupture an leap from her ribcage at any second now. She must’ve been dreaming, surely. Ludovic would never be so kind to her, would never say such… _suggestive_ comments to her like this. But then she’d remember what Bibica said to her just a few weeks prior, of implying and saying that Ludovic was _soft_ on her, that he had an _attraction_ to her. _He_ wanted to kiss _her._

She slowly dropped her arm and returned the crystal to her hilt, next to her rapier. She tented her hands together and rested them on her lap, trying to formulate a coherent thought in lieu of the moment.

“L-Ludovic, I…” Mocha began, stammering all the while as the words refused to leave her mouth.

She took a deep breath, committing to starting over—

“Mochaaaaa! Viiiiiiic!”

The all too familiar scream of friends echoed above them. Ludovic let out an aggressively loud curse, dropping his hand in frustration as the sights of Bibica and Rai’ji came to view behind them. Bibica ran up to Mocha, the Lalafell tossing her arms around her favorite Au Ra in glee.

“Oh, we were so worried about you, hun! That stupid storm separated us, and we couldn’t find you anymore…!” Bibica began, squeezing Mocha with more fervor every passing second.

“Ah, I apologize for worrying you, Bibi.” Mocha replied, giving her friend a gentle pat on the back.

Rai’ji looked over Ludovic before offering a hand to him, helping the Highlander up and back on his feet.

“Well, glad to see you both aren’t worse for wear. We saw the blood and assumed the worst.”

Ludovic waved him off, giving that all too familiar, cocky grin of his.

“Oh, it would take a lot more than a stupid dragon to get rid o' me, I promise.”

“Well in that case I have a really great war thing that we could use people like you for.” Raiji said, crossing his arms and chuckling to himself for the very _high quality_ joke he just made.

After a few moments of checking up on Mocha and Ludovic, the four of them walked the slope back up the cliffside, content to see the weather had finally died down again. Mocha let out a sigh, happy to see the sky again. Ludovic came to her side, distracted and caught up in conversation with Rai’ji. She had become acutely aware of how close her was to her, and how particularly close their hands were to each other. She moved her left arm and used it to grip her right arm, turning away from him and looking across the snowy plains to her right.

She pushed back whatever happened there to a far back corner in her mind, not wanting to get caught up in the moment and savoring what happened back there when there was still so much to do. There couldn’t possibly be time for this little fling of theirs, or for whatever was happening between them.

There were better things for her to spend her energy on, right?


	8. sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rasa travels to the aery with estinien to chase after nidhogg. they of course, would like to be anywhere else but there.

It felt good to be able to come back to the main three city states, to finally walk along the lands that many of them had grown up with, to finally return to the free company and toss themselves into their known comforts. Mocha had spent much of the time in Ul’dah, assisting General Raubahn and other higher ups in the Immortal Flames to recover from the massive loss of reputation the grand company had endured after the banquet months ago. The familiarity of long nights doing paperwork came back in full force, and for the first time in a while she felt relaxed and composed, feeling like a normal Au Ra after enduring the snowy hell that was Ishgard.

She helped to arrange meetings with the Scions, Rasa and with the Syndicate, able to repair frayed bonds together with the Flames—it was as if normalcy was returning to their lives. For a moment Tabula Rasa forget about Ishgard and their responsibilities that tied them there.

But only ever for a moment.

For time was a fickle creature in their lives, a constant flux, unchanging and unwilling to bend to no being that existed. And so, despite the comforts that they loved and missed so dearly, Rasa found themselves thrust once more back into Ishgard and towards their next target: The Aery, to fight against Nidhogg and put an end to the violence once and for all.

Once more they split up, X’hrie, Zeta, Ludovic and Mocha going into the Aery proper while Serina, Alena, Rai’ji and Bibica were to help clear our dragons around The Churning Mists, who were no doubt prepared to charge in directly to eradicate those who would aim for their leader. As they jumped off their manacutters Ludovic turned to Mocha, that signature cocky grin of his on his face.

“We need to stop meetin' like this, Mocha.” He said, grabbing hold of his musketoon as he messed around with his aetherotransformer at his waist. Mocha tried to keep a levelheaded smile, unable to smother the pleasure she had on her face at knowing that they were together once more.

“Thats because we work well together, Ludovic. We cover for each other’s weaknesses.” It made sense in her head—Mocha’s wellspring of offensive magicks allowed her to devastate enemies from long range, while Ludovic preferred to play it dirty and aggressively up close. It’s been like that since their first mission together and will most certainly be that way until the end of days. _Still_ , it was impossible for her to not be elated at the prospect of being by his side again—she wondered if Bibica had a part in this, or if it was pure coincidence.

Together with Estinien the four of them made their way through Nidhogg’s lair, putting down the raging dragons that they encountered on their way. The beasts were far more aggressive than those they’ve encountered before, Nidhogg’s influence at such a close range giving them a level of power the five of them weren’t prepared with.

X’hrie slammed into the mass of dragons with her shield, pushing through the stream of dragons and using her sword to slice through them. Estinien and Zeta used their combined dragoon expertise to cleave through the enemies, pinpointing weak spots and openings with relative ease. That left the clean up work to Ludovic and Mocha, making sure no stragglers were left amidst the groups climb further and further up the mountain.

After what felt like an arduous, slow climb they reached the tipping point of the mountain, waves of dragons summoning forth from pitch black cocoons in the distance. X’hrie spun her sword and made the first move, putting all her energy and force behind her swing towards the first dragon that appeared. Its companions took notice to this offense and began to target her, giving way for the other four to dive in and help to finish off the rest of the dragons that followed. A chorus of screams from more and more dragons rung in the air, the five of them continuing to put down as many as they could.

“What is this strength!? It’s like their own hides have gotten tougher!” X’hrie called out, thrusting her sword directly through the neck of a dragon barring its teeth against her shield.

Estinien tossed his spear towards an oncoming dragoon, pinning it down to the ground. Zeta took advantage and jumped down with his own spear, piecing the dragon’s chest and rupturing its heart underneath.

“We must be near the dragon’s nest!” Estinien said, reaching up to catch his spear that Zeta was tossing back to him. “Once we finish up here, surely—”

A loud roar pierced the air, the remaining dragons around the group screeching and flying up and away from them. The air thickened and stilled, a great power suddenly swelling and suffocating the air around them. The group ran up the stairs and toward the large stone arena, the power in the air growing in a violent cascading intensity. Wind picked up around them and a sense of foreboding washed over them as the great Nidhogg descended from above, his menacing aura overwhelming them as he crashed onto the ground and let out a magnificent roar. Estinien grit his teeth in rage, unrelenting determination in his gaze as he reached for the eye, determined to use its power to put down the dragon once and for all. He stepped forward to challenge the great dragon but staggered forward, the might of the eye in his hand sapping his energy out of him.

“You four wear the enemy down, I’ll use the eye to protect and power us!” He cried out as he drew the eye into his hand, the other four taking stances and preparing to charge at the beast.

X’hrie once more led the charge, swinging her shield at Nidhogg’s face as a satisfying _clank_ staggered the beast back as the shield made contact. He roared and swiped at X’hrie, causing her to roll to the side as she moved the dragon away from the group, using her shield to deflect the large, ferocious claws that were intent on swiping her away. Zeta and Ludovic went on the full offense, the latter using aether charged bullets to whittle down the scaley hide of Nidhogg’s, the former using his lance to pierce the exposed flesh between the bullets. Mocha offered whatever support she could, healing X’hrie when necessary, or setting Nidhogg ablaze with fire magic.

The great wyrm, of course, took _grave_ offense to this onslaught, letting loose a deafening bellow that momentarily staggered the team—it was loud and unexpected, Nidhogg pleased by the reaction. As the team tried to shake off the fright the dragon let forth fiery orbs around the arena, pillars of fire shooting from the orbs and towards the team. Zeta jumped up and onto Nidhogg’s back, digging his lance into it’s back as he attempted to keep his balance atop the wyrm’s back. If he was going to dodge an attack, the least he could do was make sure he was injuring Nidhogg all the while.

Those without such grandiose jumping abilities were force to toss themselves to the side, scrambling to protect life and limb from a certain fiery death. Nidhogg took even more offense to Zeta on his back and began convulsing and shaking wildly, attempting to knock the dragoon off it’s back. X’hrie attempted to reign the situation, tossing her shield at the beast again and again, trying to get its attention back onto the Miqote in front of her.

“Zeta!” X’hrie screamed, worry in her eyes as she stared down the dragon. “We can _really_ use your help down here!”

“My spear is stuck!” He yelled back, an unfamiliar tone of panic in his voice. “I…I underestimated the strength in my jump!” There was now a sudden feeling of dread in everyone’s bodies, having to now contend with a bucking dragon and a stuck friend—they had to get him down there before the situation got worse.

But Nidhogg’s rage and temper went hand and hand, and the annoying fly on his back must be squashed—including those on the ground. With one fell swoop he turned around and faced Mocha and Ludovic, letting out another roar and staggering them both. From his maw slipped forth a malevolent bile, oozing and pooling in the ground before making a mad dash towards Ludovic. Mocha reacted on pure instinct, making a mad dash towards her companions and shoving him with all her might, away from whatever attack Nidhogg was using. He fell onto his stomach and momentarily recoiled, angered by the sudden move Mocha took—he could handle that, damn it!

“Are ye fuckin' mad!? What the hells are ye doing, Mocha?!” Ludovic cried out, turning to watch in horror as Mocha succumbed to the power that was _supposed_ to be meant for him.

The pitch black magicks coiled itself around Mocha, slowly coursing up her body with grandiose, malevolent aura. It was suffocating and overwhelming, a force so powerful it felt as if it was reaching to the far corners of her soul. Her skin felt ablaze with heat and pain, the ichor running its course as it locked her in place, forced to endure whatever hell the dragon had in store for her. Ludovic scrambled to his feet as he dashed towards Mocha—but of course, Nidhogg would not let such actions fly under his radar easily. He summoned forth more orbs of fire onto the ground in front of Ludovic, blocking his path towards his companion.

“Mother _fucker_!” Ludovic cursed out, dodging another pillar of fire that burst through from the orbs. From above he could hear Zeta let out a loud grunt, finally digging his spear out of Nidhogg. He jumped off and aimed his spear towards whatever malevolent aura had taken hold of Mocha, meeting great resistance from the contact. It was like wading through molasses, the aura pulsing its own powerful magicks that attempted to deflect the blows from Zeta’s spear. Ludovic shot through the fire’s as best he could, the thick pillar of fire blinding him with it’s harsh light. To watch in horror, unable to do anything was putting him on edge—he wanted to save her, no, _needed_ to save her.

Zeta’s spear struck through the aura at last, one piercing blow cutting through the darkness, and ripping apart the ichor. He and Mocha collapsed to the floor, causing Nidhogg to growl in anger—but X’hrie was _also_ not having anymore of this dragon’s horseplay, tossing her sword up to the dragon’s face this time in retaliation for his treatment toward her friends. He screamed in pain and agony, writhing to the floor as pitch black ichor dripped from the wound on its head.

Ludovic took advantage of the situation to run towards Mocha and Zeta, the former hunched over Mocha and shaking her awake. She was unresponsive, breathing, but the words from Ludovic and Zeta got no reaction from the small auri. A quick rush of anxiety flushed through Ludovic’s face as he stared down at Mocha, unsure of what to do. She had cuts and bruises, no doubt from whatever hellish move that dragon used on her.

“Zeta, why the fuck did she do that?” He asked in a panic, hands stilled on her back as his mind scrambled for what to do.

“She knows you aren’t as…capable as us when it comes to all things magic,” Zeta began, focusing his reservoir of magic on Mocha despite the gravity of the situation. “Perhaps she thought she could handle that attack better.”

“Fer all the fuckin' good that did, 'uh?!” He yelled back in anger, frustration and anxiety mounting in his veins. This…had never happened before. They’ve had close calls and the like, but never had the displeasure of one of their own falling unconscious in battle—especially to whatever move _that_ was.

Zeta attempted to keep his composure, trying not to be affecting by the overwhelming waves of anxiety that Ludovic was giving off. He focused on Mocha, doing what he could for her. He couldn’t switch into a more magic adept class, instead having to deal with the reserves he could access as a dragoon. It worked, giving him a general sense of what occurred to Mocha, but there was simply _no time_ to dig deeper in this.

“That Ascian curse may have just saved her life…” Zeta whispered, picking his spear up. He turned his face towards Ludovic and sighed. “Nidhogg’s attack attempted to reach dragonkin blood to enthrall her, but it looks like the curse may have…somehow blocked it. We can’t heal the physical bruises now, unfortunately…”

A disgruntled look came upon Ludovic’s face. He had no magic to offer, no healing capabilities that went beyond slapping salve or wrapping it in bandages. He was utterly useless, unable to do anything to help Mocha. But there was no time to react, for Nidhogg shook off the blow from X’hrie and flew up into the air, circling the group before opening his maw. A burst of fire began to collect and channel into his mouth, eyes squared and homed in on the group.

“To me, quickly!” Estinien cried from behind them, finally able to stand with the eye firmly in his grasp. Ludovic quickly scooped up Mocha’s unconscious body as the other bolted towards the dragoon’s side, a bright blue shield manifesting around them. Nidhogg let loose his unrelenting blow, a massive, billowing flame aimed directly to the team. It was blinding and overwhelming—despite the shield around them, they could feel the intensity and the heat around them. There was dread and worry that the power of the eye would not be enough to protect them from such a heated blast, the fire going on for what felt like an eternity.

But there would be reprieve from this onslaught. As the blinding light subsided, as the billowing storms of dust settled and the eye’s power diminished, all became still. Quietness and vast emptiness stretched out around the battlefield, with Nidhogg nowhere in sight. The great wyrm vanished once more, the war once again far, far from over.


	9. faith and forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> with thordan gone, mocha decides to forcibly take a visit to the fm house to relax.
> 
> janus, of course, knows she likes a little peace and quiet, and offers her a moment of his time.

A soft silence fell through Ishgard in the morning, the crunch of boots against fresh snow the only ambient sound for yalms and yalms. Thordan’s reign of terror had been over for some weeks now, Aymeric ascending in his steed in a desperate attempt to reignite the Holy See into the grand city state it once was. For now, it seemed like Rasa had time to rest, and finally had a moment to themselves. They took advantage of it, going back to their company mansion in The Lavender Beds, to their grand companies and to all the friends they had back across the continent.

Thus, Mocha resigned herself to spend the day with her friends at FM, forcing herself to relax and enjoy herself. Her body was so used to being on high alert during her time in Ishgard that she had a weird stiffness to her body, feeling like every little thing would make her jumpy and scared.

Perhaps that’s why Janus was so insistent on her sitting down and enjoying a cup of tea with him. He practically pushed Mocha from the living room out towards the front yard, sitting her into one of the nearby chairs and scooting a bowl of fruit in front of her as he prepared the tea. The bowl was filled to the brim with a colorful assortment of fruit to choose from—oranges, apples, bananas, grapes, kiwis; a whole rainbow of options were at her fingertips. Mocha reached for the bunch of grapes and slowly popped one of the little fruits into her mouth, awaiting the tea to finish brewing.

“ _Perdoname, Mochita_ ,” Janus said, taking the tea kettle off the brick oven close by. “I know you haven’t spoken to everyone in a while, but you look like shit.”

Mocha laughed, gently folding her hands onto the table as Janus placed a large mug of tea on her end. It was dark and rich, smelling faintly of chamomile.

“It’s okay, Janus. I appreciate you saving me from overdoing it.”

“Of course! Wouldn’t want Hazel to worry about you while you guys are working.” He sat down across from her and reached for one of the bright red applies in the basket. Janus took a knife out from his pocket and began to slowly peel the skin from it, darting his eye from the apple to his friend seated next to him. “So, we’ve heard what happened in Ishgard from our grand companies…but surely you can explain it better, _si mija_?”

And just like that Mocha regaled to Janus the tales of Ishgard—of overthrowing a corrupt monarchy that included Ascians and fighting off dragons, of a showdown with Nidhogg and all the chaos that ensued as a result. She spoke of losing Ysayle and the sacrifice she made to keep the team alive, of almost losing Ludovic in what was meant to be a simple mission, and of her time assisting the scholasticate—her alma mater. Janus was a wonderful listener, hands tented underneath his head as he watched with wide eyed interest, asking questions and engaging himself as much as he could in the conversation.

Speaking to Janus felt a bit different than talking to the other FM members. It was like speaking to a really engaged parent, who was very proud and bemused by everything that was said to her. It was nice.

“ _Mija…_ ” Janus began, that grin of his curled up into a toothy, mischievous fashion. “How come you’ve never told me about this…Ludovic, again?”

It was then that Mocha realized she may have accidentally fallen into some trap—but in reality, she _may_ have gotten a bit too into talking about Ludovic to Janus, the sneaky little bastard catching on to the way she went on and on about him.

“That’s because, I…um…” She scrambled for an explanation that wouldn’t sound completely half-assed, but knew she was at a disadvantage no matter what she said. “I didn’t…think you were all that interested.”

Janus shot his hands up into the air in disbelief—of _course_ he wants to hear everything that Mocha has to say! For someone to leave enough of an impact on her to make little old Mocha all flustered and blush…they must’ve been a person of great import! Mocha _never_ breaks decorum after all.

“Oh _Mochita_ , I am _always_ interested in what you need to say! Especially if they involve romance.” He made a grand and dramatic gesture to the free company house behind him. “Was it not my winning charms that won over _mi amor_ , Mars?”

“Actually, it was your cluelessness.”

Mars’ towering frame came forth from the front door, gently closing it behind him and moving towards the seated pair. Janus gave a rowdy laugh, slapping his knee as his boyfriend sat next to him, grabbing an apple, and biting into it casually.

“I wasn’t _that_ clueless, you know.” Janus said, sipping his tea and giving the man next to him a pouted face. Mars shrugged, completely unfazed by Janus’ words.

“Oh, you were. _I_ was equally as clueless…and stubborn.”

“That’s true. Turning wine to water would be an easier feat that getting you to admit you liked me.” Janus took another sip of his tea, smiling as a small blush came over Mars’ face. Mocha laughed as well, happy to see the pair in a relationship that made them so cheeky with each other.

“Ah, but enough about our amazing smarts, _amor_ ,” Janus said, turning his every so bright eyes and smile towards Mocha once more. “I do believe Mocha was needing some _expert_ advice.”

Mocha let out a scoff that rolled into a laugh, staring back at Janus with a bemused look of confusion.

“I…I don’t think I need more advice, truly—”

“Well, tell us about him then! Anyone who treats my _Mochita_ like a princess deserves my praise.”

A confused Mars looked between the two, causing Janus to give him the rundown of the current conversation. The auri nodded, crossing his arms and looking at Mocha with renewed vigor. Most of their time together had always been with another—be it Hazel inviting Mars to tag along with her and Mocha, or Shrimp asking if Mars wants to join the pair on an outing. Even now they are mostly interacting because Janus was here, the two inviting him to partake in their moment.

But he grew to care for Mocha tremendously—she was an auri of tremendous work ethic and intense devotion to her friends. He liked that about her, but she was also someone who was in _desperate_ need of some rest and relaxation. Mars thought Hazel was a workaholic, and he couldn’t believe he could find someone who was knee deep in work hell like Mocha.

“You know Mocha…” Mars said, closing his eyes and tilting his head. “I think a quick solution to this would be to just…go to town on Ludovic. Just drop his pants when no one is looking and show your appreciation.”

A stunned silence washed over the other two as Mars spoke, Janus in particular slapping the back of his hand against Mars’ chest in anger.

“ _Amor_! You can’t just say that to her!”

Mars shrugged.

“I mean, if she can’t get over her fear of talking to him, why not show him?”

Once more Mocha wondered if the flames from Byregot’s bellows could swallow her whole this instant, but rescinded to letting her red face be enough of an answer for her state of being. Janus changed the open palm to a finger, poking Mars repeatedly for his words.

“I don’t think taking his dick out in public is a good idea! _Por favor amor_ , use that brain of yours!”

“I wasn’t _saying_ do it in public, _obviously_.” Mars rolled his eyes, his tone so matter-of-factly that one would wonder how he was coming to these conclusions—and why he just _blurted_ them out so casually. He continued, undeterred by the hole Janus was about to rip into his chest with his finger. “I just think Mocha and Ludovic should go to a private place and just—”

_Poke, poke, poke, poke—_

“No! _Cállate tonto_! You’re gonna make my _Mochita_ make bad decisions!” Janus exclaimed, wondering if it would be a crime to toss his boyfriend off the cliff off their free company house. Mars had quite a lot of muscle on him, surely the fall wouldn’t completely kill him, right?

Mocha cleared her throat, getting the attention of the couple in front of her. Janus bowed in apology, with Mars simply rolling his eyes.

“I will… _consider_ your words, Mars.” Mocha said, trying to regain that calm and composure she so lovingly cared for. Janus practically jumped out of the chair in a near frantic state, unable to comprehend the fact that Mocha was _implying_ that she would consider anything coming out of Mars’ mouth! Of course, he was pleased to the hells and back—mostly because he would inevitably hear about the aftermath of his incredibly bad influence. Janus leaned into Mars, tugging his horns and bringing it close to his face.

“If _Mochita_ comes back to me in tears, you’re sleeping on the roof.”

Mars said nothing, grinning from horn to horn as the seeds of chaos were sown by his hands. With that Janus let go of the no good, very bad auri and turned his undivided and loving attention back to Mocha, determined to give her _real_ advice from someone with _actual braincells_.

“In all seriousness _mijita_ , you should do what your heart tells you. I can tell you care about Ludovic, so why not just tell him?” He leaned back onto the chair, a soft smile on his face as he propped his elbows on the table. Mocha sighed, more than content and ready to have a somewhat normal and relaxed conversation.

“We have so much to worry about already with the Scions and the Ascians…” Mocha stared down into the empty tea cup in front of her, trying to compose her thoughts into words that someone other than her could understand. “I feel like there are so many things happening that are so much bigger than whatever me and Ludovic have going on.”

Janus nodded.

“ _Pero mijita_ , consider that you work very hard and deserve something nice in your life.” His voice was soft and caring, as if he was speaking to a part of him that was also in her position not too long ago. "The world will not explode simply because you decide to go out on a date with Ludovic! A little pleasure in your life won't hurt."

Janus knew that Mocha cared deeply for Ludovic—it was in the ways her limbal rings seemed to light up brighter than usual at the mention of him, or the way she softly blushed when she told him that they hugged for a brief moment just a few months ago. He _also_ knew that his advice was simply repetitious knowledge said to Mocha time and time again.

But he would repeat the notions until she believed it—for who knows not of the difficulties of believing one worthy of something so precious, so wonderful if not Janus himself? He saw that part of himself in Mocha and wanted so badly to make sure that she saw the warmth of love and allowed it to herself before it was too late. She did work hard, harder than words could describe if Hazel’s stories were to be told. And by the power invested in his Miqote frame he would wrestle whatever demons Mocha had to help her as best he could.

“You aren’t the only one to tell me that.” Mocha said, running her hand through her rose-pink hair.

“Well, be prepared to hear it until you believe it!” Was this too, another moment of déjà vu?

Mars leaned back into the conversation, off the cloud nine high of acknowledgement to continue his tirade of advice.

“And if worse comes to shove, using your mouth is always an answer.” He said, watching in blissful cockiness as Janus’ ears perked up in anger.

At least this time Mocha laughed without the overwhelming weight of embarrassment riding on her shoulders. She appreciated the comedy act duo that was Janus and Mars, they meshed together perfectly and well, covering for each other’s weaknesses. But they were also their own people, individuals that could stand tall on their own—but together they just… _fit_. Mocha was happy for them.

Her thoughts turned to Ludovic in the moment, the visage of his big toothy grin always there when she needed it the most. He was always cracking a joke at the most inopportune times, breaking the stress and tensions of long days with his voice that carried on for miles. When it came for the morning meetings he was always looking at her, their eyes crossing and making contact time after time—and how nice it felt to know that someone was _actually_ listening to the things Mocha spoke about. Even now, in the gentle thoughts she had of him and their times together, her heart just thrummed and sung a song that ached throughout her body. Mocha felt the warmth of his embrace once—once!—and she could not get the feeling of his arms around her no matter how hard she tried.

Mocha yearned for the feeling once more, of just… _holding_ him aloft in her arms, of fingers outstretched and intertwined in the warmth of his. She tented her fingers together and set them on the table, her body so fidgety and overwhelmed with the thought of Ludovic that if she did not force her body still she might take Mars’ advice here and now.

“Thank you, both. I…appreciate you talking to me about such a silly topic.” Mocha said, her voice soft as a small smile tugged at her lips. Janus and Mars smiled back, content with the time that they got to spend with Mocha.

“Of course, _mijita_! Although please don’t listen to my boyfriend—he is going to get you in trouble.” Janus gave a gentle backhanded slap to Mars’ chest to accentuate the point. Of course, his words didn’t meet the smile in his eyes or the chuckle that left his body. Mars decided to retaliate by rapping his knuckle against the top of Janus’ head, causing his favorite Miqote to chuckle in response.

“Don’t listen to him Mocha. Just follow my advice, and you’ll be fine.”

“ _Alguien salvame de este idiota_ ...”

The three laughed at Janus’ absolute sense of defeat before continuing another thread of conversation. It was nice, truly, to just have an evening of absolute relaxation and calmness. Words repeated, threads of thoughts oft said to her—Mocha would hear it all. But the stirring in her heart, the weight of something lifting from her shoulders with each voice of support to her and wishes for her to deserve better for herself…slowly but surely, Mocha could feel the weight of support coursing through her.


	10. how i heal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> on a quick trip to the goldsmiths guild, mocha suddenly adopts a little cat to call her own.

Late night Ul’dah was always insufferable, with the blistering cold chilling all to the bone and the street gangs coming out at night to terrorize the citizens at full force. Mocha could fend for herself easily, but didn’t particularly like the cold—it was a pain to deal with Ishgard and it certainly remained a pain to deal with now! Most days she would be going straight back to her house in the Mists, but the Immortal Flames had a last minute request for Serendity at the Goldsmiths Guild, and since their _favorite_ officer happened to be in good graces with the guildmaster, they asked Mocha to deliver the files to her personally. The little auri was never one to turn down a request from her Grand Company, so with very little fuss Mocha took the folder down towards the Goldsmiths Guild, which was thankfully just a brisk walk away from the Flames headquarters.

By the graces of The Twelve tonight was not as deathly cold as usual, a soft wind brushing against her cheeks as she walked down Saphire Avenue. It never surprised her to see stalls still open this late, the city never stopping and sleeping no matter the occasion. Mocha approached the guild and was escorted towards Serendipity—and what appeared to be…a very _rotund_ cat, gorging itself on a plate of grilled salmon. Mocha approached with curious interest, unsure of how a cat of such magnitude managed to get into the guild without much hassle. It was _very_ cute, all things considered.

“Ah, good evening Mocha!” Serendipity said, bouncing up from her crouched position to approach her guest. The calico cat continued to eat, only looking up at Mocha for a brief moment before returning to its meal.

“Good evening Serendity. I apologize for arriving late in the evening, and on official Flames business no less.” Mocha said, passing the thick manilla folder to the guildmaster. Serendipity took it with a wide smile, light purple curls bouncing as she moved. The guildmaster was always so smiley and energetic, the little auri wondered what it would take to make her despondent. Well whatever worries Serendipity had must’ve certainly melted away at the sight of the little calico, who now sauntered over to the pair, rubbing its round little body all over Mocha’s leg.

“Care to explain the new member to the guild?” Mocha asked with a laugh. She wondered if it would be rude to pet it.

“Ah, this little girl? We found her hanging out by the front door, sniffing at our display cases.” Serendipity knelt down and gave the cat a gentle smoosh, cupping her cheeks and rubbing them vigorously. The cat seemed to enjoy it, letting out a loud and vivacious purr from the attention. “I tried asking around to see if anyone recognized the poor girl, but no one seems to know where she came from…”

The calico craved attention it seemed. The moment Serendipity dropped her hands from its cheeks the cat let out a disappointed meow, returning to brushing its head repeatedly against Mocha’s leg to get more attention and affection. The guildmaster looked from the cat towards her guest, the persistent smile growing larger and larger.

“Mocha, how about you take the little baby home, huh?”

Mocha raised an eyebrow at the suggestion—she didn’t know a single thing about pet care!

“I…am very unfamiliar with what it takes to raise a cat.”

“Oh, it’s easy! Especially this girl, she’s super nice and lovable. Just give her some food and she’s all yours.”

As if to accentuate that point the calico purred, pressing a gentle paw on Mocha’s leg. It _was_ obnoxiously cute—almost too cute in hindsight. She wondered if Rasa would be okay with a cat on their premises, or if it would be a nuisance…but then again, Zeta is always bringing home strays that he finds, so perhaps this is a blessing in disguise? With a sigh of defeat, Mocha looked at the cat on her feet and turned back to Serendipity.

“Well, if no one has come to claim the cat, I suppose there is no harm is adopting it myself.”

Serendipity clasped her hands, a delighted smile strewn across her face.

“Oh, I’m so happy! I know you’ll love her lots, Mocha!” She knelt down to give one final pat to the cat, a mixture of sadness and elation in her eyes. “Do make sure to be on your best behavior for Mocha, okay?”

The calico gave a loud _meow_ to the guildmaster—one that Mocha hoped was a sign of affirmation of good behavior.

* * *

The cat had unsurprisngly won the hearts of everyone in Rasa, receiving so many pets and treats that one would have believed it to be the reincarnated form of Hydaelyn herself. Despite her rotundness the calico had pounced itself on top of Mocha’s desk, plopping itself on the corner and spent all day lounging about, soaking up attention and love from everyone who visited Mocha at the free company that day. The auri had never seen so many visits to her office that day, and she knew it was all for the calico—at least people didn’t make too much noise when they visited.

“I should probably name you…” She whispered, taking a break from paperwork to watch the calico lounge about on its side, tongue stuck out and black, beady eyes staring directly into Mocha’s gaze. It reached out a paw in her direction, Mocha unable to resist its cuteness and gently pressing a finger against its paw. It let out a small _meow_ in response, turning once more until it was completely on its back. By the Twelve it was so _agonizingly cute_.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ to having a proper name, hm?”

The calico stayed in its pose and simply titled its head, purring loudly in contentment. Mocha picked up her quill and pressed a finger along its edges, her fingers gently skirting across its soft edges. She was horrible with names—both remembering them, using the right ones (she was always so formal with it, preferring last names), and well, _giving them_. She considered her own name as a shining testament to her ability to make names and didn’t want to subject the calico to such unfortunate circumstances. Mocha squinted her eyes at the calico, honing them in as she wracked her brain for something suitable.

“…Mochi.” She said after a few minutes deciding. The calico let out a small noise that could possibly be translated as a noise of approval—or that of hunger.

“Well, you’re round and soft like mochi. And they can come in many colors, such as yourself.” Mocha reached over and gave a gentle poke to Mochi’s stomach, causing the cat to paw at her fingers affectionately. “…You’re also about as squishy as one, too.”

A knock came from the western door frame, with one Zeta hanging near it. An animal lover of intense compassion, Mocha had no doubt that his visit was both to check up on Mocha _and_ also to the new member of the Tabula Rasa family.

“I take it you’ve warmed yourself up to the new friend?” He said, walking towards her desk and pulling up a chair to sit in. Mocha smiled, slipping her fingers from Mochi’s paws to gently stroke its belly instead.

“I suppose so. I’ve never owned a pet before, so I’m not quite sure what I should expect from this.”

“Would you not consider Caramel a pet, though?”

Mocha shook her head, taken a bit aback by the suggestion.

“I would consider no such thing. Caramel is my most precious chocobo companion—gifted to me for my dedication to the Immortal Flames. Were it not for her continued contribution to my life, I surely would not have been as successful as I am now! In fact, I can list at least ten different times when—”

Mocha momentarily ceased her impassioned speech to stare at her companion, who was simply looking at her with a smile across his face. Zeta didn’t have to remove his bandages to let Mocha know he had his eyebrow shot up so far it was in danger of floating off into the stratosphere. A small blush flushed across Mocha’s cheek, causing her to cough and clear her throat in a desperate attempt to calm herself down.

“My apologies, I’m very…fond of my chocobo.”

Zeta laughed, waiving his hand to dismiss the apology—it wasn’t necessary to him. It was not often that Mocha often had such impassioned energy to her, and it was always a pleasure to see.

“Think nothing of it. I’m sure Caramel would have attempted to eat my hair for even _suggesting_ such a thing.”

A crooked smile pulled at Mocha’s lips at Zeta’s response.

“I regret to inform you that Caramel has much…finer tastes than that. I think she’s more likely to headbutt you than attempt to consume you.”

“Is that so? Well, I suppose there are worse ways to go.”

If there was anyone in the world who would most likely want to die an animal induced death, it would most certainly be Zeta. Mocha laughed, impressed by her friend’s dedication to animal life and their kin. Mochi let out a very loud meow, plopping onto its belly and making a slow trudge towards Mocha, hopping off the desk and landing onto the auri’s lap with a loud _thump_. She kneaded her paws into her owner’s lap and stomach, causing Mocha to look down at the cat with a pained expression.

“W-what is she _doing_?” She asked, her hands lifted in the air while Mochi happily went about her motions. “It’s like she’s…digging a hole in my body.”

Zeta chuckled, rubbing his hand across his chin as he moved his face up towards Mocha.

“She is simply kneading on you, Mocha.”

Once again, Zeta didn’t have to have functional eyesight to know that his companion was giving him a weird look—

“Pardon me?”

…But her confused reaction helped, of course.

“It’s supposed to be a motion of happiness, to let you know the cat is content. I’ve also heard people say it’s a way to stake their claim onto something.”

Mochi finished her kneading and plopped herself fully onto Mocha’s lap, letting out a gentle and constant purr as she settled into a still motion. Mocha reached down and ran her hand along Mochi’s back gently, feeling the intense vibrations of happiness as her fingers skirted along the edges of her pet.

“Oh, by the Twelve she’s too cute.” Mocha said. She did not realize that having a pet would be so simultaneously distracting and yet so relaxing. She wondered if it would be okay to have Mochi around more often…

“Now you see why I’m always bringing animals around to the mansion. They’re such a mood booster.” Zeta replied, tilting his head and looking at the cat resting happily on her lap. “For someone of your renown and worth ethic, I think you’ll enjoy having Mochi around.”

Mocha quirked an eyebrow up at Zeta, finally snapping out of her cat induced haze to look up at her friend.

“Well, if you of all people is giving me the okay to bring a pet to work…”

“Oh, please do. I think Rasa could use more animals about.” Zeta’s voiced tilted in energy and excitement at the prospect of more animals scuttering about the mansion. “That reminds me, I found a few baby dragons in the Churning Mists that I need to bring back for nursing…”

Once more Mocha found herself taken aback by the casualty of Zeta’s words.

“You found _more_ animals that needed rescuing?” She said, moving her hands from Mochi’s back to tuck a strand of rose-pink hair behind her horn. “Dare I ask how you found _these_?”

“Oh, I’m so glad you asked. You see, I was flying by Zenith and the Mogmenders…” He began, excitement rising in his voice.

Zeta dragged his chair closer to Mocha’s desk and propped his elbows onto the desk excitedly, preparing himself to regale her with a tale of unmatched bravery and wits, of how his masterful affinity for the animals led him to add yet more friends to his never ending assortment of cuddly and (sometimes) cute companions..


	11. hot & bothered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mocha gets invited to have dinner with ser aymeric. she isn't one to indulge, but who is she to say no to such a request, right?

Rasa usually don’t expect guests early in the day. Mocha and X’hrie were popular people in constant demand, yes, but even _they_ had times where their schedules were cleared out to allow for momentary peace. The morning meetings they oft had were one of these times—what was _supposed_ to be a meeting catching everyone up on their daily affairs and news revolving the Scions, the major city-states, and other important news, had now been momentarily interrupted by the arrivals of unexpected guests. Not just any guests, however: an uptight looking Temple Knight made his way towards the war table and bowed, interrupting the casual affair, and earning his fair share of confused glances.

“I have a missive here for one Mocha Macchiato.” He said, gently pulling the rolled-up parchment from his waist and onto the table. It was tied together by a shiny, deep blue velvet ribbon. Sealed on the parchment was the wax insignia of the Borel household, an insignia that all of Rasa could recognize from a mile away.

“That would be me.” Mocha approached the knight and the parchment, a confused gaze on her face—she wasn’t expecting anything, let alone from _Aymeric_. The knight bowed once more as he passed the parchment towards her, then leaving with nary any other word. Whatever he had to say was obviously not as important as the contents of the parchment.

With the sanctity of their morning meeting now ruined, Rasa decided they needed to check out this parchment that was so lovingly delivered to Mocha. She untied the ribbon delicately, not wanting to ruin this very expensive looking piece of fabric. She then exercised the same caution as she untied the parchment and read aloud from it, a few members of the team crowding closer to her as she spoke.

_Ser Aymeric de Borel, lord speaker of the House of Lords, lord commander of the Temple Knights, and viscount of House Borel, cordially invites Mistress Mocha Macchiato to dine with him at his estate._

_Pray, present this invitation to the steward in front of House de Borel at the appointed time for a private evening together._

A wide-eyed look came upon Mocha’s face as she finished reading, unable to quite process the request that Aymeric was making for her.

“There…must be some mistake. I don’t see mention of the rest of you here in this letter.” She said, trying to keep her composure while she smothered the embarrassment warming in her cheeks. She sure has been doing that a lot lately, hasn’t she?

“I think Aymeric wants some _quality_ time with you, Mocha.” Serina said with a wicked smile on her face. “I never realized he liked you _that_ much.”

“I haven’t the slightest idea of what you’re talking about.” Mocha gently and carefully wound the parchment back into its neatly wrapped form, tying it once more in the velvet ribbon. The poor auri already had her own matters of the heart to settle, and _now_ she is learning that Aymeric wants to spend alone time with her? Hydaelyn sure had some funny ways of livening up Mocha’s days, it seemed.

“Well hun, seems once again you’re a most popular girl.” Bibica said, crossing her arms with a frown. She could not tell her little auri to decline such an invitation from a most prominent figure, despite her best efforts to play matchmaker. She would bite her tongue, lest she flusters Mocha more by tugging at her heartstrings and reminding her who the _real_ object if her affection is.

“I suppose I cannot say no to such a request…” Mocha sighed, flustered at the thought of having to write a letter denying the request, but also realizing the minor inconvenience in suddenly having to go to Ishgard for an evening. “Perhaps I’ll use this opportunity to check up on Jannequinard and Leveva back at the Arcaneum…”

“Seeing as you’re concerning yourself with work, rest assured I can manage everything from here.” X’hrie reassured Mocha with a gentle smile, knowing how difficult it was to unchain their auri companion from any obligation, no matter how big or small. “You have my promise that Rasa will not crumble while you’re gone for a few days.”

Mocha smiled—she of course knew that her friends were ever so capable of caring for themselves, but there will always be that part of her that _crumbles_ at the thought of not working every living, breathing second. Perhaps this impromptu dinner might just be another gentle reminder that she ought to take it easy. Her eyes drifted from her companions briefly, before settling on Ludovic who was strangely quiet this entire time. There was something in his gaze, a flickering fire that spoke louder than the almost forced, uninterested gaze he was giving Mocha—was it…jealousy? No, no, Ludovic couldn’t possibly be jealous of _Aymeric_ of all people.

She shrugged the thought out with a gentle shake of her head and straightened her posture.

“Very well, I suppose I’ll have to accept Aymeric’s invitation…” Mocha said, gripping tight the parchment in her hand. “It would be rude not to, considering the knight came all this way to Gridania to deliver this to us.”

It was only going to be one dinner, Mocha reminded herself—Aymeric ticked all the boxes Mocha liked in someone, so at the very least the evening would be relaxing. She hoped.

* * *

The dinner could not have been anymore picturesque and grandiose. It felt like something out of the many picture books Mocha read as a child, where the charming prince would rescue the princess and bring her to a castle filled with wondrous luxuries beyond imagination. Aymeric certainly fit the bill to a near perfect definition, going to such extreme lengths to ensure that the dinner Mocha received was of impeccable design and tastes. Even the wine that he brought out was a special delicacy of his family, only ever taken out for special occasions—which he assured her was a most special one indeed. It felt nice to be pampered admittedly, to have your every whim attended to. It reminded her of her old life back in Kugane, memories tucked so far back into her brain she oft forgot it was a life once lived.

“I must say, your spirited accounts always come as a welcome reprieve from the arid reports that fill my days.” Aymeric said. “But I suspect I need not tell you of such work, correct?”

Mocha giggled—were her habits so infamous that they reached even the ears of those in Ishgard?

“You would be correct, Aymeric. I suppose an intense work ethic is one that even I am familiar with.”

The maidservant approached Mocha with a bottle of wine, offering to refill her near empty cup. She gave a gentle nod of dismissal, not wanting to overdo it; the wine was _delectable_ however—a crisp, sharp peachy flavour that left an aftertaste of equally sweet and fruity delights. If Mocha had anymore tolerance in her she’d most certainly drink more of the heavenly delight Aymeric had introduced to her.

“Well, I’m certain you have found plenty of work here in this city of mine, no?” Aymeric said, gently swirling the liquor in his glass. His eyes were soft and always stayed on Mocha—an unwavering gaze that kept an unflinching focus on her. It was overwhelming, to say that least.

“Ah, that would be an understatement.” Mocha cracked a half smile, recalling all the many months she spent in Ishgard with Rasa and the Scions. “Things have certainly changed, and I’m glad to see you strive for the better here.”

Aymeric let out warm laugh, the boyish heartiness of it making Mocha smile and warm up inside—or was that simply the alcohol flowing and working through her veins? As his laughter died down that soft smile returned, he took another sip of wine.

“Though I have lived in these lands my entire life, to hear you speak of them, there is much and more I have yet to see. Truly, Mocha, yours must’ve been a marvelous journey.”

The alcohol was certainly working, it had to be—why else would Mocha feel a lightness in her body and just feel so _giggly_ at everything Aymeric said? She did find his impassioned words kind of…invigorating, to say the least. There was a magnetic attraction to the way he spoke and acted, a demeanor that just caused Mocha’s eyes to always seek for him. Perhaps this is what happens when one is of such high nobility such as Aymeric?

“You make it sound like you’re a tad jealous, Aymeric.” Mocha said with a small laugh, finishing up the rest of her wine in one gentle sip.

“A chance to spend more time by your side on the field, and to bear witness to the many deeds you do?” He replied, half lidded eyes staring back into Mocha as his voice deepened and lowered to a near whisper. “What I would not give for such an opportunity.”

Mocha’s eyes widened as Aymeric spoke, taken aback by the passion behind his words. Surely he was just being dramatic, surely.

“…Alas, my duties to the House of Lords prevents me from straying far from Ishgard. Another time, perhaps?”

Mocha put up a smile, suddenly feeling a strange heat permeate throughout the room. It was the alcohol doing this to her, she reminded herself. Aymeric’s eyes darted quickly from her eyes to her hands, then briefly to her lips. She turned away, caught off guard by the sudden attention—instead, Mocha focused on the maidservant who seemed to be cutting a rolanberry cheesecake into neat pieces. Now _that_ certainly caught Mocha’s attention! The lord commander seemed to have caught notice of her attention and laughed, bemused by her wide-eyed stare at the cake.

“Are you a fan of sweets, Mocha?”

“I am, actually. I’ve always been fond of pastries and desserts.”

The maindservant returned to her side and placed an immaculately cut cheesecake on the most ornate plate ware Mocha had ever seen in front of her. The cheesecake itself looked almost too picturesque to cut—a soft and bouncy sheen with a perfectly intact graham cracker crust that smelled of honey. Aside It was a small dollop of whipped cream and a small bunch of strawberries, it too looking as if it was cut and harvested just a few moments ago. The maidservant brought yet another treat for Mocha in the form of yet another glass of a deep red wine.

Aymeric reached for his cup and lifted it to the air and towards Mocha’s general direction.

“A toast—we owe you the greatest debt of all, and it is my hope that in extending our support to you and the Scions, we might also express our gratitude to our neighbors─nay, our fellow Eorzeans, whom we pray you will continue to protect.”

Mocha could not decline yet another impassioned speech from the lord commander himself. She lifted her glass to meet his with a gentle _clink_ , both taking a sip and partaking in a final moment together. The wine was bitter and sharp, no doubt a sharp contrast to the creamy, smooth and absolutely perfect cheesecake that they were served. Mocha was not sure how they managed to compartmentalize the heavens above them in such a simple delicacy, but she couldn’t deny the joy she was feeling with each bite of the cheesecake. It took every bit of restraint in her body not to make an intense noise of pleasure—she certainly didn’t want Aymeric to think her having an out of body experience now!

“…May I ask you a personal question?” He asked, interrupting Mocha’s potential euphoric state of being.

“Of course, Aymeric.” Mocha said, still savoring the last bite of cheesecake. He gave her that heartwarming smile again, to which Mocha was sure that he was certainly doing this on purpose.

“Now that the dust has settled, what will you do? Not as a Scion, I mean, but...what do you want for yourself?”

The question snapped Mocha out of her haze quickly. She hadn’t considered that, for some reason—not realizing that the months that passed without the Scions calling them forth to deal with the Ascians or to put down another primal something that would be considered as…settled dust, so to speak.

‘ _What do I want for myself…?’_ To want something for her own self, and not for others…? Had such a thing ever crossed Mocha’s mind? Had she ever craved something for want of herself, and not for the benefit of others? No, such a selfish thought could never trail itself along her skin, a sentence tingling and dancing across her tongue to beckon for release. To _want_ …no, Mocha couldn’t possibly allow herself something she hasn’t earned—

No, no, that’s not what she ought to tell herself. Her friends had been telling her time and time again that it’s okay to want, okay to indulge herself in something every now and then. Mocha had to _forcibly_ remind herself that, to repeat the notions until they became an everyday thought at this point. She took a deep breath and turned her gaze towards Aymeric, trying to come up with an answer on the fly.

“I think I’d…like to take a longer vacation somewhere.” Yes, yes that sounded about right. “I…spend a lot of time working so perhaps a change of scenery would be nice.”

It sounded half-assed, she knew—Mocha was not one to share the very few worldly desires she craved, instead opting for just helping others find their own happiness. To even say them felt like a forced interaction, and she hoped Aymeric could forgive her for such discretion.

And of course, he did—a small smile and a chuckle coming out of his mouth as a response from her reply.

“Well, Ishgard is always open to you, Mocha. You’re free to walk along the city as you please.” Aymeric said, using his hands to make a sweeping motion of the room around him. “And of course, if you so wish, I would be happy to entertain you in these halls as well.”

Mocha blushed—surely, he was being too polite and had no hidden meaning behind his words. It was the alcohol that was making her this way, she told herself again. She clasped her hands together and tucked them on her lap, turning her gaze to meet up at the lord commander.

“I appreciate that, Aymeric. I’m sure Rasa would be delighted to know they can come visit whenever.”

Aymeric blinked as he digested Mocha’s words, blushing, and letting out a small laugh of his own.

“Yes, yes…your free company mates are…more than welcomed to…visit.”

A small silence befell them. Mocha took a small sip of the wine—it was so bitter, why was she subjecting herself to this?—before speaking once more to Aymeric.

“What about you? Surely you have something you’d like for yourself too.”

The lord commander gave a gentle smile and rubbed his chin with his hand as he considered Mocha’s words. There was a brief pause as he looked at her, that all too familiar gaze of warmth staring straight into her soul again.

“I could not want for much, truly. I have much work to do for Ishgard, and I’m thankful for the likes of Lucia and Estinien by my side.” He spoke softly and fondly of the pair, recalling their myriad of moments and adventures together. That same softness he extended to Mocha, it seemed—staring at her with everlasting warmth and Hydaelyn knows what else. “Of course, I would never say no to the pleasure of your company, Mocha.”

Mocha chuckled, rubbing the back of her head as Aymeric stared on. It was the alcohol; it was the alcohol—

“Mocha…” Aymeric said, leaning forward in the table as his gaze deepened. Mocha had not realized how close their hands were, looking down for a moment to glance at their knuckles gazing one another. She knew that if she looked up at him he would get the wrong impression, believe her actions to be an acceptance of this grand moment that she was not prepared for.

For Mocha’s heart belonged to another, and it was not until now that she realized she would much rather be grazing his skin instead of Aymeric’s.

“Aymeric, I, uh—”

The grand oak wooden doors that were once closed this entire evening burst open with a slam, snapping both Mocha and Aymeric from their haze. She had never been more thankful for intrusion in her life.

“Lord Commander, pray forgive the interruption!” Exclaimed a House Fortempts knight that ran up to Aymeric with panic flushed on his face.

“News from House Fortemps?” Aymeric did well to hide his annoyance, the venom in his words only noticeable to the most astute listener. Mocha took this opportunity to slowly stand from the table, sobering herself up from the sudden drastic and thick atmosphere that had arisen in the room.

“An urgent message for Mistress Mocha. I was instructed to deliver it without delay.” The knight exclaimed still in urgency, turning to face Mocha. “Master Thancred returned to the manor a short time ago, bearing an injured maiden. Master Leveilleur and Mistress Tataru are tending to her wounds, but they like not her chances. Respectfully, my lord—they have requested Misstress Mocha’s immediate presence.”

“And Tabula Rasa, have they been informed as well?” Mocha asked, if it involved the Scions, then surely, they must be here as well. The knight nodded.

“Yes, Mistress Mocha. Sir Ludovic, Sir Rai’ji, and Mistress X’hrie are already waiting with the other Scions.”

Mocha nodded and sighed. So much for that vacation she so craved—at the very least the dinner was a welcome reprieve from the weight of the world. The knight gave a small courtesy and left, most certainly returning back to the manor to tell Rasa she would be joining them soon. She made her way to the doors, turning to look at Aymeric who had a sad smile on his face.

“You must go to them, my friend.” Aymeric said as he strode to meet her at the door. “And I shall go with you.”

“I apologize that our dinner was cut short.” Mocha said, trying to sound as apologetic as possible.

“Think nothing of it, Mocha. There will be many more opportunities in the future, no?”

She couldn’t blame the alcohol this time for the blush that came on her face—this time it was just pure reactionary. Instead she gave a small smile as they walked towards House Fortemps, were things would hopefully all the more exciting—in a much, much different manner.


	12. special to me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mocha is in love, and its more overwhelming than she could possibly imagine.

Mocha could no longer count the amount of times her breath caught in her throat, or the amount of times she had to physically tent her fingers together to cease their insistent shaking. It was impossible to function, almost impossible to look Ludovic’s way without being caught in a violent whirlwind of emotions that consistently flooded her mind. She had not realized how much she wanted to be close to him until the dinner at Aymeric’s palace, where the thought of _him_ grazing his skin across hers as opposed to Ludovic’s made her so wildly uncomfortable.

Why? Why was this happening to her? She functioned before, gently, and carefully, unbothered by the racket that was now overtaking her every sense of direction and being. Why, oh why did she listen to Bibica and Janus—their hearts were kind and honest, always offering and lending an ear to her woes and telling her to listen to her heart.

The same heart that was thumping and beating incessantly against her chest, so close to bursting—

If this is what it means to be thrust against the waves of love and the throws of passion, she would not want it, would not allow it to overtake her and consume her. She had so much to worry about, so much work and so many people that required her attention and wanted her help. Mocha could not distract herself for a moment—she could not, she could not, _she could not_.

Oh, but deep down she wanted to. Yes, yes, yes—to allow herself one moment, just a singular moment of warmth and desperation in these times, to give in to something that she saw around her. Was she not worthy of this, too? Was she not able to just _indulge,_ for just one moment? Everyone else she loved seemed so impassioned and enamored, able to be in love, and to give love so easily. Had Mocha become so used to _giving_ that she couldn’t accept the possibility of _receiving_ love?

She couldn’t utter it, couldn’t make the words burst out of her chest and into the open air and to him—to Ludovic.

‘ _I love you, I love you, I love you_ ’, she uttered in her mind, locked between still and quiet lips that could not pry open the secrets of her heart. Why was she like this, she wondered. Why couldn’t she get over this fear in her heart, of opening herself bare to Ludovic and just…let herself be happy?

* * *

  
Once more Ludovic and Mocha made eye contact, a brief shared moment of acknowledgement as they were briefed on the mission for the evening. Mocha was the first to break it, almost immediately returning her gaze to X’hrie the second she could feel his heated gaze on her. Not that he stopped even after she turned away—she could feel his eyes linger on her, that comforting softness washing her with a sense of safety and simultaneous dread. Mocha crossed her arms and gripped tightly of her skin, desperately forcing herself into submission lest she reach out to him in a violent break of character.

A primal summoning was to occur at the Xelphatol, at the border of Ishgard. They would fight the Ixali and put an end to whatever these Warrior of Darkness (and by extension, the Ascians) wanted. They would once more break into teams: one directly into the mountain and stopping the Ixali, while another would stay behind to help clear a path and keep the Coerthan Ixali from attempting to interrupt their job.

X’hrie marked the groups as followed: Zeta, Bibi, Ludovic, and Rai’ji would stay behind and take care of the outside Ixali, helping the Temple Knights ensure they don’t attempt to interfere with the group that would go inside. That group would be X’hrie herself, Serina, Alena, and Mocha.

Mocha felt like she could breathe for the first time that morning. Perhaps distance would help, not noticing Ludovic near her would help her relax, would give her some time to clear the hazy fog in her—

“X’hrie.” A voice disrupted her thoughts—Zeta’s voice. “Why aren’t I going into Xelphatol? I can still fight and be of use, you know.”

It was not often that he sounded even the slightest bit upset, but to everyone’s surprise Zeta sounded quite pissed. X’hrie sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“I did not want any unnecessary risks If we get there too late, Zeta.” She said.

“Yes, but I’ve gotten so much stronger now—I can handle Garuda if she were to suddenly appear.”

“We don’t know that, and I’m not going to take any risks.” X’hrie slammed the bundle of papers in her hand onto the table, yet another break of character. “Zeta, you have to understand why I’m doing this. Please, you _will_ stay outside and provide support.”

There was a sudden tension and silence between two usually impenetrable walls of character. They never fought or argued, and this turn of events was outside the realm of possibility that no one knew what to say—save for Alena.

“X’hrie, I can watch Zeta and take action if necessary.” Her voice was calm and composed, a welcome reprieve from the current tense airs. X’hrie took a deep, deep breath and attempted to regain her composure as she adjusted her glasses.

“Are you sure, Alena?”

The Lalafell gave a gentle courtesy, patting her grimoire that was tucked on the side of her belt.

“Yes—as the foremost summoner among us, I think I’ll be able to contain whatever tempering effects the primal uses, if any, of course.”

X’hrie once more looked from Zeta to Alena and gave a solemn nod. She didn’t want to lose her companions to anything and was willing to take any measures to ensure there were no casualties. Zeta was a master at the lance and his skills would be much needed in Xelphatol, as dangerous as the prospect was of potentially letting him into a dangerous situation.

“Very well. I’m counting on you, Alena. I’ll do what I can, as well.” She said, obviously tired from the discussion. “With that decided, Mocha, you’ll be staying on the outside in lieu of Zeta’s position.”

Mocha could feel her body thrum in happiness at the prospect, while her eyes widened in fear at X’hrie. She put on her best smile and gave a small nod, knowing once again that if she dared open her mouth her façade of composure would crumble apart at the slightest seams.

The meeting was concluded shortly after, X’hrie mostly going over the usual safety precautions that the free company had heard hundred and hundreds of times before. Mocha made a beeline for her office upstairs, desperately needing a change of scenery away from the team, and most _certainly_ away from Ludovic. But of course, her life was not so simple and easy, for who would appear at the doorframe if not the cause of all her worries? Today he did not wear the smug grin that she had known him for, instead his lips betrayed a frown of worry and eyes that stared into hers that begged for something—something she could not give him, no, not now.

“Mocha.” He said, making his way towards her desk with his hands in his pockets. She held tightly onto her quill, fingers aggressively running across the soft texture repeatedly.

“Lestrade.” No, no, no—she cursed herself for formalities! That gave it away, that was all he needed to hear from her to know something was wrong, to know that she needed the comforts of another. And they both knew Ludovic would always offer his time to her and would do whatever necessary to make her comfortable again. Why, oh why did he care so much for her? He sat in the chair across from her and slouched into it, staring at her with a face that was a mixture of worry and anger.

“Are ye mad at me?” He asked. Mocha could hear it in his voice clear as day: the confusion, and the sadness; it felt like a stab to the heart, it pained her and rocked her to the core. She could never be mad at him; Mocha was quite sure such an emotion couldn’t even be _conceived_ while Ludovic was around her. If anything, she was mad at herself for how she was acting!

“No, no, not at all. I couldn’t possibly be mad at you.” Mocha replied, eyes flickering between him and every other object in the room. But Ludovic wasn’t falling for it, it seemed. His eyes squinted and stared harder, light purple eyes unflinching as they seek answers her lips would not tell.

“Then why 'aven't ye looked at me all day?”

Mocha’s eyes stilled at the feather in her hand.

“I have looked at you, Lestrade. I looked at you in the morning meeting, didn’t I?”

“Aye, fer all o' five seconds.” He said with a scoff.

They had been playing this game of eye-contact for too long to lie to each other, and Mocha for one was an absolutely _awful_ liar. She resumed her meticulous ministrations on the feather, desperately keeping her hands as far away from him as possible. All it would take is just one gesture, just one, well, _anything_ , and she would crack and break right here and now. She was threading a thread that was frayed and knotted, desperately trying to reach a state of zen and known habits that was safe and comfortable.

“Look at me.”

He spoke, and all notions of comfort and safety vanished.

“E-excuse me?”

She tried to keep safe, to not squeak out a response in a broken hitched voice that echoed the chaotic, messy nature of her soul. Did Ludovic realize what he was doing to Mocha?

“I want ye to look me in the eyes, Mocha.”

Mocha sucked in a breath—at least, she hoped so. She could not tell how her body was reacting at this moment. All cohesive thought and awareness flew out the door at his request and instead Mocha was left with shaky hands and an even shakier body.

“I…do not want to, Lestrade.”

Where she expected anger, she instead found a measure of defeat and confusion.

“Please, Mocha. I need ye to look at me.”

In all their time together, Mocha did not expect to hear Ludovic beg for anything. It was a desperate plea for her to give, to offer up a part of her soul to him and expose herself to him. She hated how simple the request was—all he wanted was to exchange glances and even now she found herself adrift and clouded by these hapless thoughts of him.

Mocha knew if she looked at him, she would break. That the sense of composure and safety would be lost to the sea and she would be at his mercy. She trusted him, knew that in a moment of weakness, at least he would offer comfort and reprieve, bring warmth and embrace her with the tidings of what she prayed was mutual affection and not momentary fulfillment.

She hoped, she hoped, _she hoped_.

Mocha slowly, _agonizingly_ slowly lifted her eyes to meet his. Their eyes met and she already felt like she was going to burst, the overwhelming might of his existence taking her breath away once more. Her hands would no longer be satisfied with the measly pathetic feather in her hand, no, no, no—it _craved_ more, something overwhelming and powerful, it craved, it craved—

The stare must’ve lasted all of thirty seconds before Mocha turned, already feeling the overwhelming sensation taking over her lungs and hitching her breath at every moment. Oh, to be so much stronger of a person. To be able to break well known composure without worrying about the consequences of one’s actions and to allow herself a moment of pleasure in this cruel, cold world.

Why, oh why was she like this, she wondered.

Perhaps it was because she was so busy agonizing over herself, hands clutched at her neck to stop herself from breaking her self-obsessive composure that she did not notice Ludovic leaning next to her on the desk, his body closer than it usually was outside of battle. Mocha recognized this distance, of being shoulder to shoulder with him and lending support to him as best she could.

She couldn’t stare at him, but she knew he was looking—that soft gaze, that _painfully_ safe and warm gaze, that yearned for her attention as much as she yearned for his. Ludovic was too kind to her—always respectful and kind, never pushing boundaries and gauging her reactions when he teased Mocha. He never touched her out of malice or out of spite, their last contact that hug from a few months ago that neither of the could forget or shake the feeling off.

Mocha felt his fingers reach out for hers, the back of them touching and grazing the fearful skin that gripped tightly around her neck.

“Ye goin' to 'urt yerself, ye know.” He whispered gently to her. Should she even bother to speak out? Would she say anything worth telling? She sucked in a breath and exhaled, breaking apart her fingers from the safety of her neck just to offer him an answer—he deserved that much from her.

“…I’m sorry.” Was all she could mutter out.

Ludovic caught her right hand in his left. Mocha’s breath hitched once more as she snapped her head to look at him, the contact so unexpected, so _frightening_ that she was sure she would melt at any second now. But her body held strong, her resolve shaken but not yet defeated. Once more she tried to look at him, his gaze continuously soft and unflinching, offering respite and comfort from the mess that she had become. His hands suddenly became a comforting home that nurtured her in her moment of crushing anxiety and worry.

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed along her knuckles gently and affectionately. He paid no mind the small cuts and burns she earned on her journey in Eorzea, instead wanting to clear her mind of the hazy fog that plagued her so. Ludovic was not a man of grandiose words and poetry, someone who could regale and compose—instead he could only offer his actions to her, only wishing and wanting to offer Mocha his all in hopes it brings her some measure of comfort and safety.

She stilled under his grasp, the slamming of her heart echoing in her ear drums as she felt a rush of warmth flare in her body. Mocha didn’t know what to say or how to react—all she could do was watch and just _accept_ it.

It was then that Ludovic realized that he had overstepped his boundaries despite his intentions, and he gently slipped out of her grasp. He cleared his throat and straightened his posture, berating himself mentally for crossing _multiple_ boundaries in such a short span. The quick glance at her deep red face was enough of an answer for him, and Mocha was still far too embarrassed to respond to his actions.

“We should...get ready fer later this evenin'.” He muttered, trying to sound as cocky and confident as he usually was. Mocha cleared her own throat in kind, trying to calm herself despite the overwhelming sensations she was feeling all over her body.

“Yes…yes, we should.”

* * *

  
A gentle downpour of snow graced Coerthas Central Highlands this evening—although admittedly it was snowing most days. X’hrie’s team had already made their way up the trail that let to Xelphatol, with the remaining four walking around the outskirts of Natalan as they attempted to hold off the stragglers of the Ixali. Most had been dispatched by the Knights of Borel and Fortemps, and the four found themselves mostly wandering around with very little to do.

Mocha found herself stealing glances at Ludovic at every opportunity, the memories of earlier in the day repeating themselves in her head repeatedly. Her hands twitched and ached to slip into his again, to feel the warmth of his lips on her skin once more. She forced a tight grip on her rapier to keep her hands still as a result, fearful the yearnings of her heart were to answer her desires for her.

But Ludovic too, kept his eyes on her on their trek, making sure she did not fall too far behind the four. He knew that he overstepped a boundary with reaching for her, _even more so_ by going so far as to kiss her! There weren’t enough cigarettes he could take right now to ease his nerves, to berate himself for the trouble and the distance between them he’s most certainly caused now. But by the Twelve he was as stubborn as she was, and as desperate as he was to finally hold her, he would simple exercise good old fashioned _patience_.

Bibica noticed something was up—her sisterly instincts were on high alert as she watched the pair steal glances at each other. All she could so was sigh in annoyance, hands on her hips as they four of them continued their trek along the ever increasing cold of Coerthas.

“It’s getting dark, we oughta get back to camp.” She said, using her wooden cane to point to the distant, setting sun. “I dunno about you guys, but I could go for a large bowl of soup!”

Mocha smiled at her friend, giving a small nod in agreeance.

“I agree. I haven’t heard anything in the linkpearl, so I assume all is well in the mountains…”

The trek back to Camp Dragonhead was quiet, with most of the monsters and other creatures in the region asleep or hunkered down in warmer caves and dwellings. Save for what looked like a small cluster of aevis that seemed to have wandered off from near Providence Point down towards the camp proper. They knew what happened the last time they attempted to take on a group of dragons, _but_ once more they are compelled as adventurers to help out the folks at Camp Dragonheads as best they could.

“Shall we try to lure them out one by one again?” Mocha said, unsheathing her rapier and holding it tight. She counted about five of them, which would hopefully be an easier time to manage than before.

“Yeah, cause that sure worked well last time!” Rai’ji replied, already freaking out from the gravity of the situation that had yet to unfold. “We should probably just go all out on them before they even have a chance to eat us!”

Mocha was in no mood to argue and simply let out a small sigh. Ludovic took a moment to look at her, opening his mouth to say something in her defense—ultimately, he dropped it in favor of trying to keep the peace.

“Very well, we’ll just overwhelm them and see how that goes.”

The four of them carefully made their way towards the group of aevis before Rai’ji began his assault, putting all his weight behind his punches as he began to beat the dragons into submission. The dragons recoiled back in anger, baring their fangs and teeth to the Miqote before being set ablaze by Mocha’s fire. From just a few fulms away Ludovic provided backup support with a storm of bullets and Bibica using her elemental white magic to whittle away at the enemy and take care of the stragglers.

One aevis however, was easily enraged, headbutting and waving about chaotically as Mocha and Rai’ji closed in on it, not content with falling like the rest of its comrades. It swung its tail at the pair—Rai’ji leaping out of the way with expert precision while Mocha was forced to block the attack with her rapier, sending her back a few fulms as the full weight of the aevis was against her. Ludovic cursed under his breath and fired at the dragon repeatedly, trying to end its life before it did any serious damage to Mocha.

But as one would expect these dragons were vicious, and his one had murderous intent in its blood as it charged at Mocha again, its mouth wide open and ready to bite down. Rai’ji charged and elbowed the aevis from behind, sending it staggering closer to Mocha. She jumped out the way as best she could, but the dragon scrambled back on its legs and began snapping incessantly at Mocha, grazing her skin and wracking its teeth along her scales. She winced in pain and began to swing her sword at the dragon, attempting to finish it off at close range while Rai’ji beat it to submission from behind.

One last shot from Ludovic’s gun pierced the aevis through its head, the bullet lodging itself in the scaley hide of the dragon. It writhed in pain as life finally drained from it, Rai’ji keeping a close eye on it as Ludovic and Bibica approached Mocha, looking her over and checking the severity of her wounds.

“It’s nothing, I assure you, really—” Mocha said, trying to wave away her friends as she pressed her crystal against her skin. Bibica gave a small pout, not convinced of her little auri’s words.

“Well, can you let us at least bandage you up, hun? Wouldn’t want you getting an infection or something worse!” Her voice was motherly and gentle as always, while simultaneously one breadth away from beating Mocha into potential submission if necessary. The auri’s arm was soon glowing a gentle white-green aura as Mocha casts a healing spell, doing her best to keep control in this situation.

“We aren’t far from Dragonhead; we can bandage me when we get there.”

Bibica let out a huge dramatic sigh, not wanting to argue with Mocha, but also still _very_ worried. Mocha could feel Ludovic’s gaze once more—no doubt wanting to say something but keeping it all to himself in lieu of their mutual stubbornness.

❧

The crackling fire nearly put Mocha to sleep—it was soothing and relaxing, filling the room with a great feeling of warmth that made her feel comfortable. She stretched and lifted herself up from the bed, slowly walking over to the bookcase near the fireplace as she looked for something to read. It had been a long day in many ways than one, and she was thankful to have a moment of time to herself while she waited for Bibica to come by with the bandages for the little wounds she got fighting the aevis.

A knock at her door turned her attention from the plethora of books, causing her to make her way towards it. With a gentle twist of the knob she opened the door—and was greeted by…Ludovic, who had a small bundle of medicinal supplies in his hands. Mocha wasn’t sure whether to close to door on his face or not, and in lieu of social decorum greeted him and invited him into her inn room. An air of awkwardness hung between them that caused Mocha to fidget once more as she closed and locked the door.

“Fer what it be worth, Bibs told me to come fix ye up.” Ludovic said, putting the medicinal supplies on the coffee table and sitting himself on the couch. Mocha let out an awkward chuckle and sat next to him, once more trying her best not to look directly at him—even though the blasted fire had the audacity to just illuminate him oh so bloody _well._

“Well, if she trusts you to take care of me, then I’ll be in good hands.” She replied in a low, hushed voice.

Ludovic scoffed, cracking that smile that made Mocha’s heart slam against her chest the loudest. He extended his hand out to hers, Mocha rolling her sleeves up as she offered her arm to Ludovic. There was an unusual delicateness to his hands that Mocha was not familiar with, knowing his hands as the ones that beat enemies to a pulp, that gripped tight against daggers and now _guns_ and destroyed enemies that stood in their way. He took great care to clean and wrap her arm, calloused fingers gently skirting across her skin with precise expertise.

“I never knew you were so good at this.” Mocha said, wincing and sucking in a breath momentarily as he wiped down a large cut with a strong alcohol. Ludovic looked up to gauge her reaction from the contact, their eyes momentarily meeting and catching. The fog in her mind came back in full, violent force—a hurricane of emotions and feelings that clashed and rolled into the deep pits of her stomach. But Ludovic was the first to part, giving Mocha a chuckle and toothy grin as he looked back at the wound, continuing his delicate operation and care for her.

“'ells, it be that painful?” He said, reaching for the gauze and finishing up the rest of her arm. Mocha gave a small pout at his teasing.

“It _kind of_ hurts…” She replied. She was able to heal a majority of the pain on her own, but wounds and cuts still hurt, damn it!

“Aye, don't piss ‘bout, Mocha. Shall I kiss it better fer the little princess?”

Mocha’s eyes squared in on him, her brow furrowing in anger and slight embarrassment. Whatever embarrassment she had felt earlier was oh so slowly diminishing, his usual personality seemingly breaking out the part of her that peopled urged out.

“I’ll give you something to kiss.” She mumbled in a near whisper to spite him.

But of course, Ludovic was _always_ paying attention, not one to pass up an opportunity to listen to Mocha attempt to sass him. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity, to see his little Mocha break her usual decorum and comfort zone and meet him on a playing field he knew of. He finished his work and gently tugged her arm, bringing the little auri closer to him. Her face was closer than it’s ever been, a breath away from each other at this point. Even through the bandages Mocha could feel the intense warmth of his body flush and rise into her, sending her mind aflame with that all too familiar fog that she got whenever she looked at him. His eyes were ablaze, gazing into hers purposefully and intently.

For the first time she could tell what his gaze was—it was a challenge, a hidden plea for her to meet him halfway in whatever this back and forth of theirs was.

“What did ye say?” He asked, eyes slowly drifting from Mocha’s eyes to her lips, stilling there long enough for Mocha to suddenly become hyper conscious of every sudden movement she was and wasn’t doing. She tried to take a deep breath, but every intake was just a an escalating hitch that drove her to lose composure.

“Y-you heard me.” She finally muttered, desperately trying to keep her gaze into his, ignoring the fear and the simultaneous excitement that was climbing up her spine.

“Aye, I did.” Ludovic replied, smiling back at her. He moved his hands to gently still close to her waist, once more exercising extreme, delicate caution around her like he always did. Mocha was constantly reminded of just how _painfully_ nice he was to her. “So, Mocha, will ye give me somethin' to kiss?”

Mocha knew that if she spared anything to him, she would break, once more the overwhelming might of Ludovic and what he offered was just too painfully much for her. She knew this in here mind, in the part of her that held on to the small thread of decorum and composure, that felt such dedication to being a Warrior of Light that she could not bring herself to want for anything—

But then in her heart, she wanted this, wanted more than anything to just…let go, to just having Ludovic all to herself, if only for just one moment. She shook the entire time, lifting her hands gently to cup his face, to make sure this wasn’t a dream. The way he chuckled at her, the way he moved his hands to grab her wrists and envelope them in such overwhelming warmth—it was real, oh so terrifyingly real. Ludovic looked at her, burying her in the affection that could only be found in the comfort of his eyes on her—it was almost too much, and he too knew that Mocha would break from this. As much as he teased, as much as he liked to see her break composure and pretend to just indulge herself in something, he knew she was not ready for this. He would not force her, or tease her into this—as much as he too, wanted to have a taste of her for just an evening.

“Sorry, Mocha. I shouldn't tease ye so much.” He whispered, lifting himself from the couch and slipping out of her grasp. Mocha bit her lip to capture the noise of disapproval she would surely let out from the sudden loss of warmth from Ludovic. “'ere, let me be gone so ye can get some sleep.”

Another silence fell between them as Ludovic gathered and cleaned up the medical supplies, sweeping them all in his arms as he made his way towards the door. Mocha followed, opening the door on his behalf with a still flushed face. She wanted to say something, anything really to just keep him there longer.

“T-thank you, Ludovic. I…appreciate your assistance.” She said, blurting out a sentence without the casual formalities she did whenever she was set into overdrive. He turned to look at her and smiled, that grin he so loved to give her ever so soft and warm.

“Anythin’ fer ye, Mocha.” His words too, were soft and warm. They pulled at Mocha’s heartstrings still, causing her to grip the doorknob with a violent grip lest she toss herself into the warm embrace of his arms. “Rest well, aye?”

She gave one last smile to him, trying to keep her composure between the crashing waves of love and affection that rocked and swayed in her heart.

“You too—goodnight, Ludovic.”

The more she said it to herself, the more she began to believe it: she was so, so in love with Ludovic.


	13. missing myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mocha begins to walk the path of the dark knight, and finds herself at a loss for the overwhelming might of it.

She found herself thumbing the crystal repeatedly. It felt warm and real, a heartbeat thrumming in the palm of her hand and filling her with a weird, familiar sensation. Fray stared at her the entire time, face unreadable beneath the veil she wore that covered all but those fiery, passioned eyes.

_‘What do you see in the crystal, Mocha?’_

Her voice was always distant, muffled. Sounding as if she was simultaneously echoing all around her, but also next to her. Mocha blamed it on the exhaustion—her nights had been fitful, and she once again couldn’t recall the last time she’s had a wink of sleep. It must’ve started after encountering the Warriors of Darkness, of fighting alongside Urianger and Alisaie and sending those back whence they came. Her stomach knotted at the thought, at the reminder of it all. What she would not give to rid herself of this curse.

“I see…flames. Warm, inviting flames.” She finally replied. Fray reached for Mocha’s hand and enveloped their fingers together, pushing their hands towards Mocha’s chest and stilling close to her heart. Fray was too perfect in every conceivable way—fingers just the right length, voice perfectly soothing and comforting, eyes inviting and dangerous. There had been one other person that Mocha had allowed to break through the comforts of space and decorum, and he was most certainly _not_ Fray.

And yet, Mocha could not push Fray back, could not quell the waves of familiarity that dragged down her spine as they spoke. Was she not a corpse just a few moments ago?

‘ _The flames beckon. Immerse yourself in the flames and ignite the darkness within._ ’ Fray spoke once more and the beating of Mocha’s own heart drummed together with the soul crystal, the overwhelming sounds of their collective unity a soft lullaby that thrummed against Mocha’s chest. It too, was once more comforting and inviting as it drew her closer and closer to it. ‘ _As it burns hotter, so too does your strength swell. But drink not too deep, lest the flames consume you..._ ’

She could feel the overwhelming sensation of _something_ around her—she knew not what it was, had not felt this sensation and power before. She knew very little of grand displays of physicality, only knowing what it was like to be a mage of immense power and talent. This…whatever it was, terrified and scared Mocha. But Fray was not one to relent, to allow Mocha to give up after just learning how to swing a greatsword.

‘ _Fear not, Mocha. I won’t let you fall to the flames, to the darkside so easily…so long as we are together, justice shall ever be served by our might…_ ’

Her words are so comforting, so gentle. Mocha could not believe what she did to deserve such treatment.

* * *

They began to worry when Mocha’s gaze changed. It was already surprising when she came to the morning meeting and told them she would begin learning how to wield greatsword—Mocha was all _magic_ , someone who offered support from the back lines. To hear that she suddenly wanted to be on the front lines, taking the hits and offering more up close and personal measures…everyone was raising an eyebrow at the proclamation. But they were her friends and were willing to indulge her in this practice to see what would come of it. There was nothing wrong with expanding one’s repertoire and knowledge base, after all.

But this was no longer the case.

Her temper grew for one. She was always patient, frighteningly so at times. Mocha was never one to be angry at others and was always willing to give people second chances and forgave so easily. This changed all too quickly after she became this “dark knight”. In battle she spared no quarter for the enemy, taking every advantage she could get to destroy those that dared threaten the livelihood of her fellow Rasa members. There was never enough blood spilled it seemed, the ruthlessness in her strikes with her greatsword growing in ever increasing violence in fervor. Ludovic and Rai’ji thought they were ruthless and messy in the way they thought—but their talents paled in comparison to the way that Mocha was suddenly acting.

Half the time Rasa did not know if the blood that stained Mocha’s armor was hers or the enemies. Hollow eyes would simply stare back at them when they asked how she was—it was always the same excuse of exhaustion and overworked tendencies that caused her to have this appearance, but everyone in Rasa _knew_ it was a crock of shit. She was spending less and less time in her office, preferring instead to travel to Ishgard and train there. What was once an area that brought stress to Mocha had become something of a second home, not able to bring herself to face her companions until she was _ready_.

But Mocha did not know when ready was, rather, allowing for Fray to tell her when she was done with the little auri as a sign that perhaps she ought to show her face back to her friends.

* * *

Mocha’s sword became an extension of herself. Not having it in her hand felt _wrong_ —she barely touched her rapier, barely bothered to practice her magic. She did not need it, there was no need for it. That which was in front of her was hacked to pieces, barely recognizable as once human flesh. It was nothing more than an icky, gooey mass of red paste that littered the ground before her and Fray. Every breath she took hurt, wheezing out and forcing herself to eject air and make the lungs in her ribcage function. She wasn’t sure how long it took to…to do _this._

Fray asked, and Mocha did as she was told.

The warm and safe touch of Fray brushed against her face, her thumb gently wiped off a splatter of blood from Mocha’s cheek, doing her best to clean and help her out. Mocha broke her haze to look at Fray, who seemed equally as tired as she was—was she too, fighting alongside her?

‘... _You stand at the precipice, but do not fear the fall. Cast yourself into the abyss, and you shall soar above, free at last._ ’ Fray said, voice once more echoing in all parts of Mocha’s head. Everywhere, and nowhere, all at once. Mocha closed her eyes and allowed herself to be cared for by Fray, her gentle hands running themselves around the intricacies and the detailing in Mocha’s scales, cupping her cheeks with gentle affection. ‘… _There are other lands than these, Mocha—where we are not known. Ask, and we shall quit this place forever._ ’

It was as if Mocha realized where she was, that mentality of hers before she touched the soul stone suddenly flooding her memories at full force. Her eyes widened and she stared at Fray, losing herself once more in the overwhelming sensation that was Fray’s gaze.

“I…I cannot. I am duty bound to Eorzea—not just by Tabula Rasa, but by the Immortal Flames, and to my friends…”

Fray’s thumb stilled against her cheeks. Instead she began to drag the length of her pointer finger across the edge of Mocha’s chin down towards her lips. Two gentle taps against the soft skin before the finger dragged down her neck, down Mocha’s collarbones and flattened against her heart.

The world as is stood darkened until nothing existed around them but the deep dark void, of an endless, eternal expanse enveloping them and everything Mocha knew. The familiarity in the touch, the inability to wrestle herself from Fray’s grasp—

‘ _Only when you have renounced everything_ …’ Fray began once more, tapping Mocha’s chest with such indignation that Mocha could have sword she felt her heart stop. Fray knew, she knew that Mocha had more personal, selfish ties to this world that would never let her be Fray’s, that would never allow her to give in fully to the wills and wants to the dark knight. ‘… _are you free to do anything_.’

“Fray—” Mocha began, trying to float herself amongst the dangerous tides that was Fray and the communion.

‘ _You shoulder so many burdens, want for so much, yet ask for so little—and what have you been given? Nothing._ ” Fray flattened her palm against Mocha’s chest—warm, suffocating, overwhelming; it was everything and so much more. Anger reverbed in her voice and echoed in the endless abyss like a raging vortex. ‘ _Do you not want to let go? The Scions. Tabula Rasa. All you have to do is ask, and I shall set us free—no longer will you suffer, Mocha. Allow me to—_ ’

Mocha shook her head. The darkness around them shifted and swirled; what was once vast, and empty was now fractured at the seams, vast constellations and stars illuminating them everywhere. She could not give in to the sweet, honeyed words of temptation that Fray was whispering to her. Her heart ached at the idea of no longer being able to see the other Scions, of not seeing Rasa ever again, of not being able to see Ludovic—

“I’m sorry, I have to refuse. If I leave my friends now…surely, they’ll…” Mocha was struggling to speak, her mind weakened at the mere prospect of her offering. She felt a weight in her chest, heavy and sinking down further and further into the core of her body. Was it the Ascian curse acting up again, or something more? Something was raging inside Mocha that pounded at her, that ate away inside, little by little.

It hurt to stand and so she collapsed, Fray catching her and softening the fall as they both collapsed together on the cold, wet ground. Fray sat up and rested Mocha’s head on her lap, cradling her as the stars above them grew wider in intensity. It was almost painful to look at—Fray too, knew this, and she was kind enough to cover Mocha’s eyes with a gentle, warm palm.

‘ _Listen to my voice, Mocha…listen…_ ’

Low, and gentle. Words that held too much affection and care behind them to just belong to anyone, really. Mocha’s body felt cold and wet, a gross, stickiness to her that she wanted to scratch away and wipe clean. Heaviness set in her body and she felt herself being lulled to sleep by Fray’s existence, the warmth in her hands washing through her.

‘ _Mocha…Mocha…Mocha…_ ’

Her name became a chant, no longer tied to her and instead another sound drowned out into the abyss.

* * *

Ludovic lifted Mocha’s body into his arms, a worried look on his face. Zeta and Bibica surrounded the pair, equally scared, and frightened at the violence they witnessed Mocha performed on the bandits they encountered. What very little remained of the Eorzeans in front of them looked like nothing more than bloody, badly butchered meat. Flesh and bone and sinew merged together in a horrible, tacky paste that had melded into the floor.

The bandits were petty thieves and bigger murderers who made their notoriety by assaulting caravans and other unarmed civilians along Thanalan. The four of them cleared out their hideout with relative ease until they finally arrived to the boss’ room, who immediately surrendered himself to the team as soon as he realized all the others in his group were dead. It could have ended there.

It should have, really.

But Mocha—of all people!—would not accept resignation and thrust her sword deep within the man’s chest. They yelled out to their companion and she flew into a rage, uttering words that Mocha would never day utter in a million years. To spare no quarter to the enemy, to not give second chances to those who have harmed and hurt. The gaze, the smouldering fiery gaze that Mocha gave could not possibly have been her own, truly. It was as if another entity lived inside the auri as she began to mercilessly hack away at the man at her feet, beating and smashing her greatsword against the ground with zero remorse or worry, spilling blood everywhere as if the room was a canvas fit for painting.

Ludovic would not allow this sudden atrocity to occur, gritting his teeth as he moved closer to her and reached out to her, pulling her arm to grab her attention—decorum be damned when the person you knew and love was suddenly not themselves. The bewildered look Mocha gave him was not her own. It couldn’t possibly be her—the Mocha he knew was gentle and quiet, of painfully stifling grace and calmness that Ludovic aught wonder how he managed to break through her as much as he did.

What stood before him now, staring at him with half her body soaked in blood, was not Mocha. It couldn’t possibly be her. For something to revel in violence as she had…no, this can’t be possible.

“What the fuck ye doing? Ye ain’t actin' like yerself!” Was all Ludovic could say to her, eyes searching hers desperately to find a trace of the Mocha he knew. He knew she was still in there, and that this was all just that stupid soul crystal at work—maybe it was tainted, cursed, or something.

Mocha—or at least, whatever dreaded voidkin had decided to make her its host—stared back, eyes widened in near hysteria. Her breathing was ragged and broken, dry heaving as if any second now her lungs would collapse on her. When she spoke, it sounded rough and dry, as if she had suddenly swallowed rocks and forgot what it was like to speak.

“Because…because…Fray…Fray told me…to…” Was all she could sputter out before she collapsed, Ludovic reaching out and stumbling to catch her as he fell to his knees with her.

The three of them called out her name over and over, trying to stir her awake. Maybe it was exhaustion that took her, the overwhelming weight of whatever her soul crystal was doing to her that caused her to faint—it was too hard to tell. All they could do now was take her and leave, never looking back at the horror that was left in their wake.

❧

There was no comfort that he could find in a cigarette as he stared at Mocha, instead he found company in _tea_ of all things—the same kind of chamomile tea that Mocha was fond of to try and calm his nerves. There was a lot of yelling and arguing when they came back, the team unsure of how to deal with her actions, _especially_ when the only records they could find of the one called “Fray” to be a dead man left to rot in the Brumes of Ishgard.

X’hrie had half a mind to toss the crystal and the sword away and put Mocha into an extended vacation while she recovers. However, who else would handle the financials and the paperwork while she’s gone? Who else could help co-own and run the free company by X’hrie’s side if not for her? She shouldered the burdens of many responsibilities in Rasa and in the Immortal Flames—if she were to leave, things would be infinitely more strained in the free company.

It was then that Ludovic was once more reminded of the fact that Mocha was in fact, _far too overworked_ for his tastes, but there couldn’t possibly be anything he could do to help. The Flames barely ask for him anyway, what could he possibly do to help her? A moment of weakness crashed through his usually confident demeanor, as he stared down at her, the first calm face he’s seen from her in weeks as she slept in the infirmary. He wished he could manipulate magic at a time like this, able to just cast a spell or something to calm her, to just offer anything besides his actions and his held back affections.

With gentle affection he reached his hand out to hers, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles—for all the good it did, he mumbled in his brain. He wasn’t good with poetic words, able to compose long winded speeches of adoration to her. Ludovic was at a loss for what to do. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, resigning himself to turn in for the evening when Mocha stirred, blinking away the exhaustion as she sat up with a pained look on her face. She turned her gaze towards Ludovic and smiled, despite the obvious pain she was in.

“What…time is it?” She said, giving a gentle squeeze instinctively to his hand, still holding tightly to hers.

“I dunno. I've kinda been sat 'ere keepin' an eye on ye.” Ludovic slipped his hand out of Mocha’s to keep her from freaking out, and he could have sworn he caught a frown from her from the sudden gesture. After a moment to regain her composure, Mocha nodded, closing her eyes to try and recall the events that happened before she passed out.

A silence befell them as it usually does at this point, both having a multitude of questions to ask the other. Ludovic decided to be the first to break it, as usual.

“I be worried about ye. All this here 'dark knight' bullshit 'as me worried ye goin' to get yerself 'urt, or worse.” He spoke directly to her, eyes staring directly into hers. He was happy to find that same light that he grew to know, and love was lit again in her—it brought Ludovic a major sense of relief.

“Yes, I…I know.” Mocha said, tenting her fingers together and resting them on her lap. She sounded so exhausted, so desperate for sleep that Ludovic felt bad to be keeping her up like this. “I wish I had an excuse, but I do not. My actions are my own, and I won’t offer a lie to you.”

“Then can ye tell me what the fuck be goin' on?”

Mocha indulged him, trying her best to regale the tales and experiences she’s had with Fray. Her eyes darted to his every now and then, trying to gauge his reaction as she spoke. He looked calm, listening intently with furrowed brows. When she finished, silence fell between them again—and once more Ludovic let out a loud sigh, rubbing the back of his head in worry.

“An' ye be still determined to see this through? Do this here 'ole 'communion' bullshit?”

Mocha nodded.

“Yes, I do. I don’t know what exactly Fray wants from me but…There’s like this really powerful force that’s dragging me to her, that’s making me see this through.”

“Mocha, yer goin' to get yerself killed.” That pleading tone that was so unfamiliar and strange came back once more, sending a chill down Mocha’s spine. Oh, how it pained her to do this to him.

“I hope that by then I have a better grasp of being a dark knight so that it doesn’t happen again.” Mocha lowered her voice as she spoke, taking a sigh of her own this time. “I want to do more to protect the people I care about…I want to _be_ stronger, Ludovic.”

“An' ye be willin' to risk yer life to do so? E'er thought to consider that maybe them people ye care about want ye alive?”

She could hear the anger in Ludovic’s voice, but she said nothing. The thought of not being able to protect Rasa or being nothing more than a half-assed mage who couldn’t protect those closest to her…No, Mocha didn’t want to think about it. She gripped tightly to the bed sheets, feeling her body shake from some unrelenting wave of anxiety and just—

“I don’t know what I would do if I let anything happen to you, Ludovic.”

She couldn’t hold back any longer, letting the weight of her words out into the open air. Even if he rejected her, even if the force of the moment crushed her fragile ego to pieces—she had to say something. Mocha owed Ludovic a thousand times repeatedly. If she could not offer him actions that she was too scared to take, the very least she could offer her words.

There was silence. Ludovic staring at her with wide-eyed surprise—he didn’t think she’d have it in her to just, well, say something from the heart _._

“An' do ye think I want to lose ye either, ye stubborn auri?” Was all he could reply, unsure of how to reciprocate the words she told him. “If I end up losin' ye to this here stupid Fray mate, I’ll run o'er to them an' fill them with enough bullets to turn them inside out.”

Mocha stared back with wide eyes, surprised by the heated words he spoke to her. Her heart was aflutter somehow, warmed by the words he said to her and felt a comfort in knowing that he would go to such great lengths to her. Were her own words strong enough to reach him, she wondered—? With a sigh Ludovic lifted himself from the seat and stretched his limbs, not realizing he spent _quite_ a long time seated. Mocha attempted the same, except she was in _far_ worse shape, her whole body still store from early in the day. Ludovic reached out for her and steadied her, hands resting gently on her shoulders as she gathered her bearings.

“You continue to be far too nice to me, Ludovic.” Mocha said, feeling the creeping rise of exhaustion in her body. “I’m sorry I keep causing you so much trouble…”

It sounded like she was going to cry, and the thought of her doing so made Ludovic extremely worried. Once more he decided to gently overstep a boundary, moving his hands down to her waist and pulling her close to him, enveloping her in his embrace. He was warm and safe, Mocha once more overwhelmed by the feeling of him close to her. She tried to hold it together, desperately holding tight to the threads that kept her sane and composed and separated from all that Ludovic was—but she couldn’t any longer.

She erupted into sudden sobs, holding tightly to his jacket as she buried her face into his chest, unable to contain the overwhelming stress and pain she was in. There was so much for her in the tears—of worrying her friends, of feeling herself succumbing to the throughs of the path of the dark knight, of being so overwhelmed and stressed that she was about to break. Mocha needed the desperate release that only crying could bring, no longer able to pass by the day to day ignoring everything and tossing herself into work. Ludovic held her tight, gave her safety and comfort in the tightness of his embrace, allowing her a moment to herself—to them.

He did not know how long she would cry for, but all he knew is that he wanted to stay there with her until she finally smiled again.


	14. alter ego

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mocha has been spending a lot of time as a dark knight, and she begins to wonder if she's still...there.

Mocha could feel a large disconnect from her magic. What could be a simple spell that she could manipulate at ease with barely a snap of her finger felt like so much work, the channels of aether in her body suddenly feeling closed and foreign to her. Was this the price to pay for her near obsessive training in the dark arts? Was the Ascian curse, blood, _whatever it was_ flowing through her and mixing with the dark arts and preventing her from using the magic she grew up training for? Whatever the reason all Mocha wanted to do was just cast _one_ single spell, one single Verfire towards this striking dummy so she could feel like an Au Ra again—

She took a deep breath, calming herself and attempting to regain a semblance of composure. She doesn’t… _feel_ right. It’s like a crack had ruptured across the surface of her soul and was slowly chipping away at her sense of self, her sense of being. Mocha had done too much as a dark knight, had devoted herself obsessively for so many weeks that it had become all she knew, whether she liked it or not. She had allowed herself to drink deep the wrath of the dark flames that burned inside her; flames that held back the chorus of self-hatred, self-doubt, ideas of selfishness—things Mocha could never allow to pass and break the front she puts out.

But still, she couldn’t be useless to Rasa, to her friends and those close to her. She _had_ to get stronger, she had to, she had to.

Once more Mocha decided to close her eyes to regain focus, to hold tight to the sliver of composure she had left in her body. A wave of calm rushed through her body and to her core, reassuring and gentle. She knew of this calmness that came from the swirling abyss of the endless expanse—this was…

“Fray.”

She called out to her like she always did, and the all too familiar visage of Fray came to view, her dark knight companion outstretching her hands towards Mocha. Despite the armor she wore Fray’s hands were always so warm and comforting, cupping Mocha’s cheeks in an all too familiar fashion. Thumbs trailing and rubbing the scales that covered her face, fingers trailing across her jaw, her chin…It was all so… _familiar_.

‘ _You look so exhausted, Mocha. Have you not been training enough?_ ’ Fray asked, always worried, always gentle—yet ready to break her apart at any given moment, it seemed. Mocha shook her head, trying not to lose herself in the weight of Fray’s presence.

“I haven’t been…doing lots of dark arts training, no.” Despite the endless expanse around her, she could still feel the weight of her rapier in her hands—Mocha was still conscious of everything. “I…I’ve been wanting to train in magic again, so that’s why I’m here.”

Fray said nothing, instead her eyes stared into Mocha’s still. Her hands dropped from her face down towards her shoulders, gripping tightly of Mocha as she did so.

‘... _I'm beginning to question your commitment, Mocha._ ’ Fray’s glare sent a tremble down Mocha’s spine, the auri suddenly feeling a crushing wake rocking her body in its entirety. ‘ _You know I'm trying to help you, don't you? All of this is for your benefit_.’

The abyss around them shifted on its axis and ripples of stars and constellations surrounded them once more. The blinding light smothered Mocha’s visage, forcing her eyes close—but behind her eyelids she could still feel the pressure of Fray in front of her. A mixture of fear and warmth flared in her stomach, feeling the power of her dark arts swelling at the bottom.

“I’m sorry Fray, I can’t abandon my calling…I’m a red mage, through and through. Besides, Rasa is—”

‘ _Ah, your friends don’t understand our work, do they?_ ’ Fray interrupted Mocha’s train of thoughts with a gentle voice, hands skirting across her arms until reaching her hands, intertwining them together. ‘ _They don’t understand that we can spare no quarter to those who hound the weak, to dole out punishment to those who believe themselves untouchable…much like you did before I began to teach you, no?’_

It was hard for Mocha to disagree with Fray’s words. She swallowed down the anxiety and it felt like she had injected smoldering hot coal down her throat.

“I won’t deny what you’ve taught me is…important, but I worry it’s too much for me…I don’t feel like myself anymore.”

Fray laughed and it echoed around them, as if the constellations in the abyss around them also laughed in rhythm and in the same beat as Fray’s laugh.

‘ _You are at the precipice of change, Mocha. To be one with the dark arts, to hear the voice…Darkness dwells inside us all._ ’

Fray lifted her right hand and once more flattened it on Mocha’s chest, gauging the rhythm of an anxious and scared heartbeat through her fingers.

‘ _Some have more darkness than others of course, years of experience building in them a rage and a passion that desires to break free. Much like you desire, Mocha._ ’

The constellations in the abyss began to pulse and shake, lines of light that held them together fraying and melting at the seams. The fire that Mocha felt when she held aloft the soul crystal, when she held a greatsword in her hand and destroyed all that was in the way of her and her friends…yes, that fire raged on in her heart, fanned by the words that Fray was saying.

‘ _Mocha…return to Ishgard, I have one final lesson for you. Let me show your friends just how worthy of the mantle you could be._ ’

Fray’s words were gentle and delicate, offering Mocha a promise she could not ignore. The temptation was so overwhelming and too powerful—the promise of strength, of protecting those she loved and those near to her…she had to do it, she _had_ to give in. For just a moment, for just this one—let go, and give in.

* * *

Her sword was an extension of herself. When her eyes looked upon an enemy that deserved righteous retribution her greatsword struck true, tore apart sinew and flesh and bone until nothing remained of those in front of her. This is what Fray taught her, the will to protect the weak, to offer no mercy to those who had sinned. Set ablaze and set forth the darkness that lied in Mocha’s heart and use it to fuel the dark arts—yes, that is what Fray would want.

Maybe that’s why at Whitebrim Front when she saw the visage of Fray—no, no, of _herself_ , she knew how to retaliate, it’s moves were all Mocha knew down to the smallest of reflexes. It spoke like Fray, but it looked like Mocha. A wild card, consumed and overtaken with dark arts and magic emanating from it… It was all too familiar, like looking into a reflection in a puddle, washing the visage wax and wane as the ripples of change break apart the image before you.

Their weapons clashed with all too equal force and strength, Mocha and Fray unable to relent their wills to one another for the first time since their journey started. What was once a comforting and reassuring voice was now an emblazoned and desperate plea—Fray yearned for something that Mocha could not give.

“Have I not been good to you? Have I not given you everything I promised?!” Fray screamed, swinging her sword wildly at Mocha, who could only stand there and take the blows with her greatsword stretched out as her only barrier. Such rage, such anger—where did it come from? Mocha did not think she had betrayed her companion, and yet…

A force of dark energy pushed forth towards Mocha, staggering her back and forcing her on her knees.

“Fray, stop! We don’t have to fight anymore!” The auri tried to reason with her companion, tried to look past the visage of herself and tried to replace what she saw with the old Fray that she knew. It was just a trick of magicks, surely.

But Fray would not give in, would not relent the anger and the madness that powered and fueled her being.

“No…no, don’t you _dare_ look at me with those eyes and speak to me as if you know me!” She put her hand on her chest and grit her teeth. There was vitriol and murderous intent in her voice—a new tone, and yet so familiar. “Did I not help you to hear the whispers of our very soul!? Why do you look at me as if you’re afraid of what I have become!?”

Mocha felt a pressure amongst her chest, something weighing her down as it attempted to drag her down to the depths of whatever hells lay beneath them and beyond the snowy depth off the edge of Coerthas. Fray took advantage of the momentary distraction and jumped towards Mocha, raising her sword and bringing it down on the auri in front of her. A last second block allowed for Mocha to protect herself from the brunt of the attack, instead finding herself pinned onto the ground with Fray on top of her, the overwhelming power of Fray’s desire to kill her slowly draining her will.

“A house divided cannot stand, Mocha.” Fray whispered, face simply a breadth away from Mocha’s own. It was her visage, after all—the same face, same eyes, same scars. Mocha was, fighting a part of herself that she had buried away, that she could never allow others to see. A wild beast, fueled on by years of suppressed desires and emotions, yearning to be set free and wanting so badly to be let loose and to be another self.

In the heat of the moment, Mocha thought back to Fray’s offer from a few weeks ago. To run away and start anew, to be a new person and be another face in the crowd. To drop the mantle of being a Warrior of Light and the Scions, to never look back on the life she made…it was so tantalizing, so sweet. A sweet release that Mocha had never wanted before, but now suddenly craved. Would anyone remember her if she vanished? To let Fray kill her where she stood and just take over, to let loose all those desires and wishes and yearnings, to finally let go of the fear in her heart; would she be remembered? Would she be mourned? Surely, surely, Mocha would just—

“Do you have any idea how ridiculous you look? Flailing about like a wild beast in a battle against yourself?” Fray’s harsh words ripped through Mocha’s thoughts and brought her back to the hard reality she was faced with.

The snow began, fog rolling in around them and the Temple Knights that cheered and supported Mocha on. The cold settled into Mocha’s bones and chilled her to the core, reminding her of why she hated Coerthas so much. At first it was soft and gentle, scenic, and almost romantic—but then it quickly formed into powerful blasts of snow that bashed against Fray and Mocha, distracting them with it’s incessant billowing.

A distraction that Mocha took advantage of, lifting her leg up and bashing Fray against the stomach, pushing her off and allowing Mocha a moment to regain her composure and stand back on her two feet. Mocha no longer knew why she was still standing, how she was able to have a will to live and keep going—something inside her just told to keep standing, to just keep _going_. She stared at Fray with renewed vigor, not able to give in just yet.

“It would seem I underestimated myself...” Fray said, using the weight of her greatsword to stand. The endless expanse of darkness enveloped her, causing Mocha to take a defensive stance as she awaited the inevitable. “…But no matter. I _will_ take what’s rightfully mine, Mocha! I won’t let our work go to waste! I _will_ be made real!”

Fray charged blindly at Mocha, sparing no quarter as she put all her effort behind one final attack to end this all, three powerful slashes swinging rapidly against the dark barrier Mocha put up as a desperate attempt to reduce the incoming damage. Their swords clashed once more and Mocha pushed back with all her might, flinching Fray, and putting all her might into one, last thrust.

It pierced right through Fray’s chest; a clean cut that went through whatever visage laid in front of Mocha. A throbbing pain washed through Mocha as she pushed the sword through, watching her greatsword slick with pitch black blood as she put her all in this one, final slice. She watched Fray stagger back and to the floor, oozing out the black ichor with a smile on her face.

“So, this is your answer...” Fray sputtered out, the ichor pooling around her and tainting the stone ground beneath her. Mocha rushed to her side and knelt, a pained, scared look on the auri’s face. Fray turned to look at her and raised a gentle, weak hand towards her face, running the back of her hand along her cheek. “...If this is how it must be, then so be it.”

“Fray, I…”

Were there any words Mocha could offer Fray? Or rather…offer _herself_?

“Don’t. Don’t bother, Mocha.” Fray looked up to the foggy grey skies above them, the snow now teetering on the edge of a raging blizzard. “Perhaps this was…to be expected, after all. Who was I to think I could mess with the balance of one’s soul so easily…?”

The all too familiar darkness of the abyss slowly rose around Mocha’s eyes, the warmth of the darkness enveloping the two of them in this one, final moment. Her eyes drifted down to Fray, who still had that pained smile across their face.

“You’re stubborn beyond comprehension, Mocha. Your soul locked tightly behind a maze of your own creation—one that…not even I could pierce.”

The constellations and stars above them twinkled and shone brightly once more, the once staggeringly harsh light now a soft, gentle blanket that covered and lit them both.

“I’m sorry, Fray.” Was all Mocha could say—let out another apology after apology, for it was all she could ever offer anyone, as much as she wished to do more. Fray scoffed at her, not content with her words.

“Don’t be. I should have known better than to try and untangle the vastness of a soul and a heart.” Fray’s voice returned to that all too familiar softness and familiarity that Mocha had grown accustomed to. “Although…perhaps you ought to be kinder to yourself…all things considered.”

It was Mocha’s own visage she was looking at, his being Fray and _her_ in essence. Her body, mind and soul were now tainted by Fray’s soul crystal, her will and drive ever so much Fray’s as it was hers. She saw it all—the way Mocha solved problems with words and passivity, the way she laughed when she was with her friends, the way Mocha was slowly opening herself to love and affection…it was no longer her own.

It was _also_ Fray’s.

Fray reached out towards Mocha’s head and pulled it close, the crowns of their scales touching, eyes closed as the darkness swirled around them for the last time.

“Know that when you tire of this charade, I shall be here...waiting to take the reins...” Fray said in that low, all too familiar voice that reminded Mocha of someone, of something so close and yet so far. Of something she yearns for, that Fray knew would always soothe her in the darkest of moments and at her lowest. “You need only ask...”

* * *

Mocha was surprised by the _lack_ _of_ surprise from Rasa when she returned covered in mysterious black ichor. X’hrie chewed her out, bickering with Mocha about vanishing _again_ and causing the Miqote to nearly uproot the entire continent of Eorzea trying to look for her. Of course, she was extremely content and happy to see Mocha returned, the light in her eyes back in full force—whatever happened in Ishgard hopefully meant the worst for Mocha was now over.

She was grateful for the bathhouse in the basement that allowed her to wipe clean the mess of the day, feeling a renewed sense of self and vigor as she changed out of her dark knight gear and into lighter, and casual clothing that her red mage attire allowed for. The weight of the day remained on her shoulders, however, and she still felt a part of her missing in her heart—or at least, something felt like it had buried itself deep inside her that was waiting for a day like this. She didn’t know, truly.

But what she _did_ know was that her desk was littered with requests and missives from the Immortal Flames, as well as other urgent matters that demanded her attention. A sense of routine and comfort washed over mocha as she carefully and happily retreated and began sorting through the papers, spending the day trying to reclaim the comfort and the every day she knew and loved before the events with Fray took place.

She spent the better of the day working, dutifully bound to her desk like she used to. It was nice, to just work silently away at papers while her friends checked in on her during their time there, happy to see her back and safe. And in this case, one was even nice enough to drop off a cup of tea and rolanberry cheesecake too. Mocha looked up from her working haze to meet the gentle gaze of Ludovic, a soft smile spread across his face as he carefully placed the cup of tea and the cake next to her, mindful of the documents she had to sort through.

“It ain't much, but I figured ye could use a somethin’.” He said, that all too comforting gaze giving Mocha a tingle across her skin.

“Thank you, Ludovic. I appreciate it.” It felt like so long since she had the pleasure to indulge in her favorite pastime and reached for the tea as soon as she was able to. It was her favorite tea—the chamomile soothed and calm her the instant it reached her tongue. “How’d you know I’d need this?”

Ludovic shrugged, trying to act as nonchalant as possible—but the smile was too cheeky and gave away his intentions entirely.

“I 'eard rai'ji sayin' ye looked such as yerself 'ad a rough day, so I swiped a piece o' cake 'e made an' just made some quick tea fer ye.”

Mocha giggled, and she could see Ludovic lift his hand up to his mouth in a desperate attempt to smother the blush and smile that grew on his face. A comfortable silence fell between them, Mocha indulging herself in a momentary break, with Ludovic desperately trying not to stare at her with adoring eyes. A moment of clarity washed through him as he shoved his hands into his pockets, excusing himself from Mocha to allow her to finish working.

Mocha, however, _also_ had a moment of her own and stood up, reaching out for his hand and clasping it tightly between her hands in swift, sudden movements. Ludovic turned to look at her, the expression in his face a mixture of confusion and surprise— _Mocha_ was _touching_ him, of all things?

“W-wait.” She stammered out; her face turned to stare at their clasped hands—she was trying to hype herself up, taking steady mental breaths to try and wrack up the courage to look at him. “I…um, I wanted to thank you again. I-I appreciate all you’ve done for me, truly.”

Ah. Perhaps it wasn’t as major of an issue as Ludovic assumed.

“Aye, no need to work yerself up. Just doin' what anyone else would do in me position.” He replied. There was something awfully cute in her trying her hardest, he had to give her that. He slipped his hands out of her grasp and continued walking, only to have Mocha reach for his hands _again_.

Oh?

“No, that’s…that won’t do, Ludovic.” Mocha took a deep breath and yanked him closer to her, moving her hands from the safety of his hands to the collar of his jacket.

Oh.

Mocha gave a small, gentle kiss on Ludovic’s cheek. The deep and violent intensity of her embarrassment radiating so much heat that Ludovic could feel it from the very short distance together. She moved back and turned her head, eyes widened in equal surprise to that Ludovic wore—this was…out of the norm. There were no words to describe the simultaneous confusion at the turn of events, Ludovic staring at Mocha as she stood there with her hands on her hips, face unable to look at his.

“Mocha—” Ludovic managed to stammer out, trying to climb down from the sudden high he found himself on.

“A-apologies, that was, um, very uncalled for.” Mocha cut him off before he could finish the train of thought. She didn’t _sound_ angry, if anything she sounded surprised by the sudden turn of events as he was. It was as if she didn’t…anticipate her movements to turn out the way they did. Ludovic’s hand twitched, unsure if he should reach out to her or not. That was—

“Ah, there you are, hun!”

Bibica popped out from the doorframe, causing both Ludovic and Mocha to jump out as the tension in the air suddenly died down and shifted towards the new arrival to the office. The Lalafell seemed none the wiser as she approached, a plate of cookies in her hand. She looked over to the desk and frowned, noticing the half-eaten cheesecake on Mocha’s desk.

“Oi, Vic! Did you bring my little Mocha some sweets without telling me?”

Ludovic took this opportunity to recompose himself, turning to look at Bibica with a slight frown.

“Oi, early bird gets the worm an' all that fuckin' jazz.” He said, the cocky tone of his returning in full force. Mocha giggled, returning to her desk as Bibica put a plate of cookies next to her, pushing the cheesecake out of the way.

“Yeah, well _these_ little bad boys were baked by _yours truly_ , so they’re far better than whatever the heck this cake is!”

Ludovic took _great_ offense to the insults of the cheesecake he didn’t bake and the two began to bicker, taking petty and inconsequential jabs at each other as they tried to persuade Mocha to eat _their_ pastry instead. The auri laughed at her friend’s dedication to her, gently running her finger across her lips as she cemented the feeling of a stolen moment before Bibica arrived.


	15. 3am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bibica has a plan to get ludovic and mocha to finally just be honest with each other.

The bar maiden placed two large mugs of ale in front of Bibica and Mocha, much to the women’s surprise. Bibica would never deny a drink that someone else paid for, but Mocha would at least want to _know_ where it came from.

“Thank you, ma’am but we didn’t order this.” Mocha said, unfamiliar with being randomly given alcohol. The bar maiden laughed, pointing to a Maelstrom Roegadyn and a Miqote seated a few tables away that seemed _very_ eager to know the ladies a bit more. Bibica raised an eyebrow at the pair as the bar maiden departed, the busy bar demanding her constant attention.

“Don’t worry hun, if those boys try to do anything, I’ll be sure to bleed out their wallets at least.” She said, patting her auri companion’s hand before taking a large swig of ale. “It’s always the Maelstrom that are desperate to get more than just their throats wet, I swear.”

The four city states decided to partake in a grand celebration in Aleport in honor of the Alliance being at it’s peak, inviting all their respective members to come to the port city for drink and respite. Rasa, of course, was amongst the members to join, not passing up an opportunity to enjoy a night to relax and partake in all the fun. There was a throng of people all around the town, jumping in and out of bars, conversing around the docks, or simply walking around the outskirts of the city to get not so salty air in their systems.

Mocha took a sip from the ale and almost immediately recoiled—it tasted _strangely_ of green apples but left a horrible aftertaste that tasted somewhat like bread. It wasn’t a pleasant aftertaste to say the least. She’d feel bad not drinking it since someone went out of their way to purchase it but…it was _so bad_. Bibica notice her friend having an existential crisis and laughed, once more patting her hand as she finished up her mug of ale.

“Darling, you don’t have to drink it!” She said, reaching for the mug. “Here, I’ll finish it up for you!”

“Ah, thank you, Bibi.” Mocha said, watching with bemused interest as her friend chugged the entire mug in one fell swoop. “I worry that those men would get the wrong impression if I accepted their gift…”

Bibica slammed the mug back onto the table and turned to look at Mocha, tilting her head with a small frown.

“Well like I said, I don’t think I’ve ever met a Maelstrom boy worth his salt, so I wouldn’t worry too much.”

“Truly? Then, perhaps I can just ignore their advances…”

There was already a lot Mocha had to overcome, and the last thing she wanted to deal with was giving _rejection_ of all things—she reserved that kind of treatment for recruits that wanted into her squadron! Across the room Rai’ji and Ludovic were in an intense triple triad battle against three other pairs, a makeshift tournament started by the Adders and the Flames. It started out softly and in hushed voices, but the wonderful addition of alcohol completely transformed the makeshift tournament into incoherent screaming and cheers at every card drop, causing a slow stir of people to gather round the crowd.

Bibica and Mocha watched from afar, with the latter paying close attention to that certain someone she’s always staring at. Ludovic was completely in his element, wiping the floor clean with just about everyone he faced. In this match he was up against Rai’ji, the two locked in a heated battle that would certainly test their friendship. Bibica looked over to Mocha and elbowed her in the side, a huge smirk on her face.

“Oi, you know, if he beats everyone, I’m sure he’ll be looking for a _sweet_ reward.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and let out a laugh when her little auri companion blushed with embarrassment and looked the other way.

“I don’t think that kind of reward would be appropriate right now.” Mocha replied, covering her mouth with her hand as she looked at Bibica.

“Oh, don’t give me that!” She exclaimed. “If I have to see you and Vic continue making googly eyes at each other and _not_ kiss already, I might actually start getting gray hairs.” Bibica raised her red locks, looking at the white ends with feigned sadness.

Mocha made a small courtesy in her chair, suddenly feeling really bad for the inconvenience she’s caused to her friend.

“S-sorry, Bibi. My stubbornness has truly inconvenienced you…”

“Well, you can _convenience_ me by letting me set you two up for a little date!”

Bibica jumped out of her seat and smoothed out her clothing, giving Mocha a thumbs up before sauntering over to Ludovic. Mocha had half a mind to stop her, but relented, hoping that whatever she told him would be something he wouldn’t buy…she hoped.

❧

Ludovic was a master triple triad player and had no doubt that he would wipe the floor with just about anyone and everyone in the bar. He was very glad to be proven right of course—beating all but his free company mate Rai’ji in this makeshift competition. Seeing this final opponent certainly convinced him that everyone else here were just chumps who played far too casually. But a competition was a competition, and he would most certainly win! At least he’d gotten a couple free mugs of cheap ale from each opponent—it was weak and didn’t do much for him, but hey, free was free.

In the middle of—once more—moping the floor in this round, he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder, and turned to see Bibica with a wide grin on her face.

“Oi, make it quick. I be about to embarrass Rai'ji ‘fore every grand company in Eorzea.” Ludovic said, a cocky grin on his face as he turned to look at his flustered mate across from him.

“I _can_ hear you!” Rai’ji screamed back, his fluffy red tail perked up in anger as he looked at the cards in his hands in desperation. The poor Miqote looked like he was about to bust a blood vessel in wake of losing this match. Bibica merely rolled her eyes and motioned for Ludovic to lean down close to her.

“Listen hun, if you beat Rai’ji I got you a sweet little surprise lined up!” She said, punctuating her sentence with a giggle as she pointed back to her table.

Ludovic’s eyes followed the motions and looked over to Mocha, their eyes locking briefly. He raised an eyebrow at her, causing her to turn away in embarrassment. Bibica couldn’t possibly mean—

“Mhm! You got it, Vic. Win the tourney and little ol’ Mocha will spend the evening with you!”

“Somehow I don't buy what ye be sellin' to me.” He replied, looking back to Rai’ji for a brief moment to see him having an existential crisis still.

“Hey, it’ll be your loss!” Bibi gave a shrug as she spoke, tapping her chin with her finger. “I just think Mocha would rather hang out with you than with the dumb pair of Miqote and Roegadyn that have been staring at her all evening…”

She saw Ludovic’s eye twitched and she let out a mischievous smile—hook, line, and sinker! He tried to play it cool and calm, returning to his normal façade as he watched Rai’ji _finally_ play a card.

“Fine, fine, I'll 'umor ye.” He said, carefully choosing his plan of attack and getting ready to beat the shit out of his mate. “I'll be sure to win this here little match an' I'll be o'er there in a second.”

Bibica clasped her hands in joy, giving a small bow before returning back to Mocha’s side at the table. The wide smile she gave her friend was more than enough to let the auri know she was about to be way in over her head.

“H-he actually bought it?” Mocha said, rubbing the back of her head.

“Ah don’t worry about it too hard.” Bibica said, propping her elbows on the table. “Just think of it as a…very fancy interview! Except it’ll _hopefully_ be more rewarding.”

Mocha sighed, feeling herself warm up in anxiety and embarrassment.

The two of them continued to chat for some time, with Bibica doing her best to hype Mocha up for the evening she hoped her favorite little auri would have. Mocha was quite sure her heart would give out halfway during _any_ conversation she and Ludovic had tonight, knowing herself still too flustered and nervous at the thought of them being alone for too long. But deep down Mocha knew that she really needed to get over this little game of back and forth, and supposed no better way to be rid of her fear is to just dive into the deep-end.

So, when Ludovic finally appeared before her and Bibica, and when she was handed off ever so gently to him, and the two of them left the bar, Mocha knew it was time to face her fear.

She owed him something after all this time together.

* * *

Ludovic didn’t expect anything from this evening, truly. He figured Bibica had put Mocha up to this, most certainly tired of the pair’s current back and forth—nothing ever happening, and stuff that _did_ happen occurred at a snail’s pace. If anything, he figured a walk together would allow the pair to at least get some fresh air, and in Mocha’s case he knew she would appreciate the quiet. They walked to the other side of the dock in near silence, both stealing glances at each other despite the awkward airs. They both had a lot on their mind, but once more neither of them could find the right way to start, nor could they think of a way to converse without thinking of all the stolen moments of intimacy they had together. There was a lot happening internally and externally, it seemed.

At the very least the night was picturesque—the stars above them shone bright, nary a cloud in the sky and the seas were as calm and gentle as they could possibly be. It would be a lovely, romantic night were it not for the fact that Mocha and Ludovic were too busy being equally stubborn and respectful to say much.

“That dress looks nice on ye.” Ludovic said, breaking the silence as the two of them walked around the docks. Mocha was wearing a dress that Serina and Bibica had gotten her during Saint Valentione’s one year, a simple black dress that showed off a bit more skin than Mocha had ever shown before—but regardless, a gentle (if embarrassed) smile spread on her face at his complement.

“I’m flattered, thank you.” She said, tucking a few strands of her hair behind her horns.

And with that, silence fell between them again. Mocha internally berate herself, her tongue feeling heavy and tied as she suddenly found herself at a loss for words. She tried to think of this as an interview like Bibica said, but nothing she could think of saying fit! She looked down to their hands—it was a breadth away, knuckles just barely grazing against each other. Mocha could feel her hands twitch in response. Would it be rude to reach for it right now? Would it be overstepping a boundary once more? Would he be mad?

Oh, to hells with it—

Mocha, very, very, _very_ , slowly reached for Ludovic’s hand, slipping her fingers into his one by one at a honey like pace. Ludovic looked over to her in surprise, watching with bemused interest at the mental crisis Mocha was having as she slowly slipped their hands together. He laughed and raised their hands to his lips, once more taking advantage of the situation and kissing along her knuckles with a soft smile. It was everything Mocha wanted to feel and more in this moment—safety, warmth and comfort.

His fingers were rough and calloused, battle worn and a reminder of all the hard work and dedication he’s put into every part of the free company—from being the lead engineer and keeping everyone’s armor and the company airships in space, from being a forced to be reckoned with on the battle field with his fists, knives and gun. And yet, here he was in front of Mocha, showing a measure of kindness and adoration and love and gentleness she wondered if he had ever shown anyone else. She couldn’t know, she couldn’t tell—all she _could_ say is that in this moment, or rather, in all their shared moments together he was always just…ever so delicate to her.

She wondered what she did to deserve some kindness, she thought repeatedly whenever they were together. Surely, she couldn’t have been that special—

“Mocha.” The soft spoken nature of her name on Ludovic’s lips snapped her out of her reverie, straightening her posture as she looked up at him. Heavy lidded eyes looked down at her as the sounds of the ocean echoed off in the distance.

“Yes, Ludovic?” She said his name with equally gentle nature, watching his lips curve up in happiness. He too, loved the way she said his name, loved and revel in the way Mocha made his name sound like something to be proud of.

“Do ye love me?”

The question caught Mocha off guard. Something fell in her stomach—it wasn’t a pit, nothing painful or agonizing, no. It was more like the horrifying ordeal of having to bear her feelings up and out into the air, to have to give him an answer she simultaneously wanted to scream out to the heavens and wanted to whisper against his skin in adoration. Her reaction must’ve been violently intense, Ludovic dropping their hands in lieu of stepping back from her to lean against the stone pillar behind them. She missed him almost immediately, finding herself stepping forward towards him to snatch that missing warmth that she got whenever he was close by.

Ludovic reached up to her face and brushed the back of his hand against her cheek, feeling the warmth of her embarrassment flush into his skin through her scales. He never realized how bright her gaze was in the darkness, her limbal rings seemingly pulsing as they looked into each other’s gaze. He didn’t expect an answer from her, truly. He wouldn’t be surprised if she just ran away in embarrassment, or just straight up refused to answer.

But she was still here, hands fumbling together and lips quivering as she no doubt attempted to form an answer but—yes, she was still there. That in of itself was an answer, as far as Ludovic was concerned. Still, hearing it out from her would be nice too.

“C-close your eyes.”

Mocha’s voice broke Ludovic out from his thoughts and he stared back at her, that cocky grin now back in full force.

“Ye goin' to give me a proper kiss now?” Ludovic said teasingly, watching Mocha’s eyes widen in horror. He could hear her whisper out a curse beneath her breath, causing him to burst out laughing. She reached up and pinched him in the cheek in anger, her face completely red and flustered. Ludovic could do this forever, he realized—seeing Mocha completely break character and composure was too good to miss out on.

“N-no. I was…going to answer you, in…a different way.” She stammered out, her eyes slowly with determination once more. “So…please close your eyes.”

Ludovic rolled his eyes and did as Mocha told. He figured she was having a freak out and needed to do so in private, probably in an attempt to sooth her nerves before she gave him a straight answer. It was cute, in a way. He relaxed himself against the pillar, listening to the wind slowly pick up around them and the waves begin to crack against the docks.

He wasn’t sure what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t Mocha’s hands directly on his crotch. He shot his eyes opened and looked down at Mocha unzipping his pants. Ludovic reached down towards her, gripping both her wrists as Mocha looked back at him with wide eye surprise.

“Y-you weren’t supposed to open your eyes!” She exclaimed, trying to wiggle out of his grasp.

“Aye, an' ye aren't supposed to be on yer fuckin' knees!” He slid down to meet her on the ground, crossing his legs and zipping back his pants—as much as he _appreciated_ the prospect, there are certain ways to go about this! “What ye doin', Mocha!?”

Mocha looked away, crossing her arms as she tried to wrack an answer out to give to Ludovic. She somehow didn’t see it going in _this_ direction, it seems.

“I…um…a f-friend of mine told me to do that.” She finally said, rubbing her arms to try and keep her hand still before she reached out to him and tried that again. Ludovic flinched, taken aback by what Mocha said to him. What kind of friends is she hanging around with? Surely Bibica didn’t give her that advice.

“The fuck kind o' mates ye 'ave then, Mocha?” He said, voice full of simultaneous worry and anger. Sure, he’d like a blowjob like any other guy with a pretty girl in front of her, but preferably in a more _romantic_ setting—or at least with a little more alcohol in their system.

“T-they meant well; I promise!” She raised her arms up in defense, a small pout forming on her lips. “They know that I’m… _awful_ at this kind of stuff, s-so they offered me advice to try and prevent… _this_.”

Mocha gestured between the pair, feeling the rush of embarrassment coursing through her body once more. She couldn’t blame Mars _entirely_ on this. Janus did warn them that he was full of shit, but one can’t really blame her for trying to step out of her comfort zone. Or in this case, jumping into the deep end of a body of water and hoping that she doesn’t completely drown.

Ludovic didn’t know whether to laugh right now, resolving to instead reach our and give a gentle pat to the top of Mocha’s head, sighing in defeat. This girl…

“I just asked ye a simple question, ye know. Is it really that 'ard?” He asked, trying to soothe her and relax her. His voice was low and gentle, speaking as calmly as he could despite the mix of emotions he was feeling right now. He knew that Mocha was _stubborn_ in her own way, but Ludovic didn’t expect it to cause her this much worry. He watched her bite her lip as she considered his question, and he was starting to worry that maybe going out together wasn’t a good idea.

“It…it is hard, Ludovic.” She finally answered. Mocha’s eyes looked into his, finding comfort in the soft gaze Ludovic gave her. “I am…so, so _awful_ at this kind of conversation.”

Even now with both of them close together like this, she still felt unworthy of the feelings she felt whenever she looked at him. The strange mixture of heart and mind at ends and clashing against each other—the part of her that wanted to just indulge and just relax, while another wanted to keep things professional with each other. But…they’ve crossed so many boundaries with each other at this point. Mocha wished she could just not be at constant battle with herself.

“Would ye feel better if I answered ye first?” Ludovic asked, moving his hand slowly from the top of Mocha’s head down to her cheek, gauging her reaction all the while. It was hard not to give in to his touch, to feel the warmth that flared in her scales as his palm cupped her cheek. She instinctively snuggled against his hand, shivering, and biting her lip to smother the noise of approval she was about to let out. Ludovic smiled—looks like she approved.

“S-sure, answer first.” Mocha said, eyes closed and still lost in the reverie of his touch. If she looked at him, then surely—

“I love ye, Mocha.”

His answer was quick and to the point. Mocha’s eyes shot open, staring up at his face. That answer was too fast for her liking—it couldn’t possibly be true. Her eyes searched his desperately, looking for him to flinch and to crack the calm façade, to just turn around and laugh like he always did. But he didn’t—he remained straight faced and composed and looked at her with the same look he always gave her.

Mocha wanted to cry. This couldn’t…this can’t be _real_.

Her eyes watered up and she turned away from him, feeling embarrassment and anxiety suddenly rising in her chest. She wasn’t worthy of his love, this was something that Bibica set up to just get her to break her composure and to get her to drop her guard for something she did not know. There was so much rushing through Mocha’s mind right now that she felt like her heart was going to burst from her chest.

“You aren’t joking, huh?” She stammered out, desperately holding back the tears that were forming in her eye. She didn’t want to cry in front of him _again_. Ludovic reached out to her once more, putting his hands against her waist and pulling her close. She flinched but found herself unable to resist the warmth of his touch, finding herself on her knees and their bodies close. Ludovic’s hands were so warm and gentle, wrapped around Mocha’s waist protectively and gently, holding her tightly against his body. She placed her hands on his shoulders, bracing herself against him as the overflowing tide of emotion wracked her body.

“I wasn't, no. I don't mean to make ye uncomfortable, Mocha.” His voice continued to be gentle and warm, easing Mocha into whatever the hell was happening between them in this moment.

He was too kind to her, truly. Always watching out for her, always just being so nice and doing everything he could to protect her and keep her safe—Mocha didn’t deserve such kindness. But Ludovic deserved an answer, deserved to be repaid for the kindness and safety that he’s shown her all this time. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes lest she suddenly lose herself in the warmth of his gaze.

“I…I love you too, Ludovic.”

She felt a simultaneous weight lift itself off her shoulder and also felt the crushing weight of her emotions out into the open. She was afraid to look at him, afraid of finding out what would happen if she looked back into his—but despite the fear, despite the worry she opened her eyes. Ludovic was smiling from ear to ear, letting out a laugh in both relief and pride.

He reached up to her and kissed her, pressing his smiling lips against hers. Mocha flinched at first before feeling the sudden warmth of his embrace flush through her body. She cupped Ludovic’s face and awkwardly pushed back, letting him take the lead as his hands gripped tightly around her waist. Mocha felt heavy and weak, feeling the overwhelming force of the kiss clouding her thoughts as she drunk deep of his love. He moved his lips from hers down to her throat, kissing along the exposed flesh and sending shocks of pleasure through her body. Mocha reached up into Ludovic’s hair and tugged his dark blue hair, using the moment of clarity to put a halt to this venture before it went further—despite the sudden need Mocha felt to have this go further.

He looked up her for a moment before returning to her exposed skin, kissing along her collarbone while he still could.

“W-we should…stop this, Ludovic.” Mocha stammered, feeling her body overheating and her mind foggy. That was…unexpected. Nice, but by the Twelve if this keeps up she might actually really take up Mars’ advice to the end. Ludovic smiled into her skin, gently parting from her and clearing his throat.

“That wasn't so 'ard, now was it?” He said to her with a cheeky grin.

Mocha reached over and gentle pinched his skin, laughing all the while.

“We should probably get back to the party. Wouldn’t want them to worry about us.”

They had the misfortune of having to detangle themselves from each other’s embrace and stood up, smoothing out their clothing and trying to regain a self of moderate composure. Mocha was the first to intertwine their fingers together as they walked, Ludovic looking over to her with a smile.

“Well, can't wait fer Bibs to look at us an' lose 'er mind.” Ludovic said as they made their way back to the bar. Mocha giggled, eager to see how her friend would react to her little set-up finally paying off.

“Hopefully, she doesn’t make a scene.”

“Oh, ye know she will. She be probably fifty drinks deep as we speak, fussin' o'er us.”

“Oh dear…”

There were many things the two of them had to worry about but found comfort in knowing that they no longer have to worry about their little game anymore. And at the very least, they’ll be able to go through whatever the future brings them together.


	16. describe him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> janus and mars host mocha for another little get-together at the FM house.

Janus made sure to put extra chocolate chunks into the cookies he was making in lieu of Mocha’s arrival. Her text sounded urgent, and his instincts told him that he’d need to give her a little pick me up. She didn’t really give specifics about what she wanted to talk about, just that she had recently returned from an evening in Aleport and needed to see Janus _immediately_. And what could of fatherly uncle would he be if he denied her request?

“Ooooh, I smell something _delicious_.” Ignia poked her head from behind the wall and moved over to Janus who had just retrieved the gooey morsels from the oven. She licked her lips and reached out to one of the cookies before Janus gently slapped a wooden spoon at her, causing the little Miqote to recoil in feigned pain

“ _Orale mujer_ , those are for _Mocha_.” Janus untied his apron and put it on the small peg against the wall, keeping an eye on Ignia all the while. “I already have something else planned with Shrimp later for dinner.”

“But Janus, they look _so good_ …” She tried to get her best sad face to try and garner a degree of sympathy from her friend, but unfortunately none came from him.

“I wouldn’t be the head of this company if I gave away _all_ my homemade cookies that easily!” Janus moved over to the other side of the counter and began to fill the kettle with water and set it onto the stove, tossing a small fire shard into the kettle to warm it up. “ _Te prometo_ , once me and Mocha are done talking, you’ll get some sweets.”

The sweet waft of cookies filled up from the kitchen to the rest of the free company house, prompting yet another cat to poke their head into the kitchen. They noticed the two that were already there seemed preoccupied and busy bickering over some very defenseless cookies right now. Oh, so close yet so far…there must have been at least a dozen cookies there! Surely they would not notice Elysium reaching over to take some, surely! They hunched over near the ground and made slow gentle steps towards the cookies, prey in sight and ready for easy pickings. With their hand outstretched and hovering near the cookies—

“ _Ely!_ ”

Janus’ eyes made contact with Elysium and the Miqote was forced still, staring at the other two with tail straightened in fear. The black haired Miqote let out a large sigh, moving over to the cookies and removing them from the metal tray and onto a large plate with a floral design on it. Ignia and Elysium mourned the lose of their cookie break, ears drooping down in disappointment. Janus looked to see the despondent look on his friend’s faces and sighed once more, using his leg to kick the fridge as he walked out into the hall.

“There’s cookie dough in there you little fiends. Try not to burn the kitchen down, okay?”

Elysium and Ignia instantly lit back to life at knowing that their cookie adventure was back on track, scrambling towards the fridge with glee. Janus made a mental note to come check up on them when he came back for the tea—assuming the kitchen was not, in fact, a smoldering, charcoaled mess.

❧

It was another beautiful and bright day in The Goblet. The wind was gentle and warm, a nice contrast to the crisp chill that came with the sign of early fall. Janus poured Mocha a cup of tea and smiled at her all the while, pleased to see her after a few months apart—work kept them both busy, the Scions and private commissioners being equally as needy and want for their attention. Quiet moments like this, with both enjoying a small chit-chat was nice. Mars was even so inclined to join the event, mostly because Janus promised him cookies (and because he missed Mocha a bit as well—but she couldn’t know that so easily).

“So, _Mochita_ , how’re you?” Janus began, taking a small bite out of the cookie in his hand. It was deliciously crunchy on the outside, with a fudgy and rich inside from the chocolate chunks; he had to hand it to himself, he could be a wonderful chef when he needed to be. “How’s your free company doing? How’s work? Have you told Ludovic you love him? Have you been eating properly? What about sleep?”

Mocha took a second to laugh, the endless barrage of questions frightening her a tad bit—but it was Janus in all fairness, and she expected nothing less. Even Mars seemed to raise his eyebrow at the onslaught of questions being sent to Mocha. He gave his boyfriend a gentle nudge in the stomach, causing the Miqote to stop and laugh, realizing that he might’ve gone a little overboard.

“I’m doing just fine, Janus.” Mocha finally replied, staring down at the cup of half drunken tea in front of her. It was a green tea that FM had lying around, surprisingly strong and bitter, serving as a perfect compliment to the cookies Janus made. “And as for… _that_ question…yes, me and Ludovic…c-confessed.”

It had been less than 12 hours since they formally confessed, and even less time since she last seen Ludovic. After the little get together at the bar, Ludovic walked Mocha back to her home in the Mists, declining to stay over so not as to overwhelm Mocha yet again. She wanted to see him so badly, yearned to hold his hand again and feel the warmth of his embrace again—but she pushed back that warm hearted yearning in lieu of visiting FM, wanting to update Janus on the past few months of her life. It’s only fair for family members to catch up every few months, no?

Janus of course, was the kind of family to be overjoyed at the grandest of moments and the smallest ones—and in this case, Mocha _finally_ working up the courage to confess to Ludovic. He clasped his hands together and his ears bounced in joy at seeing the way Mocha’s eyes lit up at the mention of Ludovic’s name, at the coy smile that tugged at her lips as she tried to smother the joy she felt inside to.

“Well _mija_ you can’t just say all that and _not_ tell us the story!” Janus said eagerly.

Mocha rubbed the back of her head, chuckling awkwardly at Janus’ request.

“I…ah, there isn’t really anything to tell.” Mocha’s voice was getting ever so coy and high-pitched, taking a sip of tea to try and give Janus a hint. But it was obvious that he wasn’t going to let her go without a little something, at least. “I-it wasn’t anything interesting, I promise.”

Mars quirked an eyebrow up at her. She was usually shy about this topic, but even this measure of coyness seemed a little excessive—he figured Mocha would have said something by now, surely.

“Not even a little bit?” Janus said, propping his elbows on the table and leaned onto the surface. “Did he kiss you? Did he make sure to respect your boundaries and give you space to breathe? _Si no lo hizo, lo voy a golpear tan fuerte…_! _”_

Mocha raised her hands up to soothe Janus—violence wasn’t needed, surely!

“N-no, he was very kind and sweet, I promise!”

“Then…mija…please, I am but a starving man…” Janus pleaded, stuffing another cookie in his mouth as he tried to give the most pitiable face he could for Mocha. It would be absolutely mortifying to let Janus know what she _almost_ did to Ludovic, and she _especially_ didn’t want Mars of all people to know that she took his advice—but Mocha was also bad at lying. This was a lose-lose situation no matter how she looked at it! At least if it came from her own mouth it wouldn’t be so bad…so, with a measure of determination, Mocha sucked in her breath and _attempted_ to respond to Janus’ plea.

“W-well, it’s just that…I may have listened to someone’s advice and almost made a very…bad decision.” She winced as she spoke, unable to look the pair in the eye. “S-so that’s why I’m a bit…hesitant, to, um, talk about it since, I, uh, almost did a bad.”

There was a beat that followed. Janus’ smile slowly dropped as he came to understand Mocha’s words, a look of horror suddenly drawing on his face. Oh, his poor _Mochita_! Was she so nervous that she almost resorted to something so out of character because she could not speak the words of her heart? And while Janus was sitting there with a look of exponential horror, well—

Mars was about as smug as any person could be in this situation. Quite possible the widest smile known in all of Eorzea, truly. He bared his fangs with such aggressive smugness one could feel the air around him change from a mile away.

“Excuse me.” He said, standing up and raising his arms into air before doing a victory circle around the table, practicing the best way to say ‘I told you so’ before sitting back down at the table like a king amongst the rabble. “Oh, I fucking told you so, _sweetheart._ ”

“You’re sleeping on the damned floor tonight, _amor_.” Janus snapped back—it was all this auri’s fault that Mocha’s head was filled with such horrible ideas!

Mocha watched as the pair fought, wanting to remind Janus that it wasn’t entirely Mars’ fault for all this. She could have just not done it—but that meant being honest and verbal, and well, the three of them knew how that would have gone. At the very least, now that Ludovic and Mocha had _finally_ confessed, she could finally practice being honest with herself and breaking out of her shell a bit more as a better pace now.

She snapped out of her thoughts as Janus reached over to pour her more tea, the sounds of cups and other tableware _clacking_ together causing Mocha to remember she was at a social gathering of sorts.

“ _Well_ , have you told Hazel about the news?” Janus said, desperately trying to change the subject lest he throttle his boyfriend off the cliff once more. Ah, nothing like murderous intent to settle into the afternoon. He loved Mars dearly, but he feared if they lingered on a romantic topic for too long, he might fill Mocha’s head with more awful ideas! Mars said nothing, his mouth still stuck in abject smugness. He wondered how many bad ideas he could send via tomestone text before Mocha would block his number…

“Ah, I haven’t. I’ll be going into the Flames company tomorrow, so I’ll be sure to see her there.” Mocha replied, bowing her head in thanks before taking a small sip of the tea.

“Good, do send her our regards. It’s been a while since we’ve seen her, and we’re a bit worried about her.” Janus voice betrayed a hint of sadness that Mocha took note of. Hopefully everything was alright with Hazel…she was climbing the ranks of the Flames quickly the past few months, reaching the rank of Flame Marshal last Mocha heard. Hopefully, the weight of increased responsibility didn’t drag on the poor girl.

“Well, last time we spoke she got awfully adamant about me not falling in love, lest she worry about me…”

“And what do you think _I’ve_ been doing, _Mochita_!” Janus said, placing his hand on his chest as that feigned sadness came back on his face. “I was worried you would go grey because of the stress you were putting on yourself because you didn’t want to admit you were in love!”

Mocha let out a squeak, bowing in her chair in apology. Janus continued, not through giving his quarterly required fatherly speech.

“I am very happy for you of course. You’re a bright girl and you do a lot for other people, _mija_. I certainly hope that you realize you deserve to be loved, especially with someone who makes you as happy as you are now.” He looked at her fondly, still able to see the bright aura she now gave out. Compared to before, where it was obvious that the yearnings of her heart pulled and tugged at her soul, causing her to be troubled and on edge. It felt like a whole different person in a way, and he was happy that Mocha finally found something warm and comforting in Ludovic.

It was she finally came home after months and maybe even _years_ after struggling, of preventing herself something so warm and comforting. It was nice to see this change in her, truly.

Mocha blushed, rubbing the back of her head as she listened to Janus speak so fondly at her—she still hadn’t gotten used to accepting compliments, it seems.

“You’re too nice to me, Janus. I don’t—”

Janus raised his hand, pointing a finger at Mocha.

“No! Accept my compliment, or next time we meet I’ll make your cookies with raisins.”

Both Mars and Mocha let out a noise of disapproval, Janus laughing with an evil smirk on his face as a result. As the laughter died down the three of them continued making conversation, Mars doing his best to fill Mocha’s head with other _very_ naughty and horrendously bad ideas while Janus slapped him in the shoulder for every idea. Mocha would… _consider_ his ideas, being all the more mindful of the words that come out of this guys mouth.

Mars wouldn’t lead her astray for a second time, would he?


	17. rather not know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mocha and hazel catch up in the flames barracks after a few months apart. 
> 
> hazel, in particular, seems to have a lot on her mind.

_Hazel wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to bring Mars over to the Flames Headquarters today, but they gave her very little notice—as always—and she had no choice but to bring him to work. Everyone was immediately surprised by the Elezen towing a quiet Au Ra by her side, wondering where Hazel of all people suddenly procured a child of all things. She was too carefree and energetic to have settled down and adopted a child! Scandalous murmurs rippled through the company and Hazel ignored them all—these people clearly don’t have enough jobs to keep them occupied._

_The two of them made it to Hazel’s personal office, greeted by the sight of her squadron. Unlike the other members of the grand company, the ones in this room were far more polite and considerate, actually taking the time to listen to Hazel’s story and introduced themselves to Mars with far more care and interest. Mars was not yet used to the kindness of strangers, instead opting to hide behind Hazel for a majority of the conversation._

_With gentle beckoning Mars approached the squadron, the team eager to learn more about the boy that Hazel had blessed them with. The poor Elezen had to review notes in regards to an operation on the Brass Blades, members of the Flames investigating the charges of corruption that has come to their attention. In most circumstances she’d want nothing more than to watch over Mars, but duty called, unfortunately._

_She looked up after a few hours of work to see Mars hanging out with two paladins she’s employed: a Roegadyn and a Lalafell who had been with her since the beginning of her time in the Flames. She couldn’t quite hear what they were talking about but noticed that Mars seemed to be pointing and gesturing to the sword wrapped around the Roegadyn’s waist. She wasn’t particularly of the mind of allowing him to learn how to use a sword at such a young age but if it’s in a controlled environment…_

_Almost as if on cue, the trio came to Hazel’s desk, and asked for her blessing to allow Mars a chance to use the sword. Despite her worry, Hazel gave the approval so long as they watched Mars every second. The pair nodded, taking Mars over to the side and handing him a practice sword that was nearly his entire size. Despite the disadvantage however, Mars was uncharacteristically natural with a sword. The Roegadyn and the Lalafell had given him a few pointers, critiquing his aim and his posture, and he took it all to heart._

_“He’s got one hell of a sword arm, Hazel.”_

_A voice from behind startled her, causing her to nearly knock over a vial of ink. She turned around to see the Flame Marshal behind her, watching Mars with curious intent. Hazel stood up and gave a small salute to her superior, the man raising his arm to dismiss the gesture._

_“I heard you were suddenly in possession of a child and needed to come see it for myself.” He said, raising an eyebrow at Hazel. “I figured you of all people would not want to, all things considered.”_

_A small frown tugged at Hazel’s lips and she looked at the Marshal in confusion._

_“I’m not sure what you mean, Marshal. I don’t think there is anything stopping me from taking someone under my wing.”_

_The Marshal waved the comment away, disinterested in Hazel’s attitude._

_“Right so, but that doesn’t make the prospect of you having a child any less weird.”_

_She said nothing in response, sitting there silently out of fear of speaking out and lashing out against a superior. Hazel stared back at the Marshal who seemed far more interested in Mars still._

_“Well, if you’re looking after the kid, I expect nothing but success and due diligence. At least if you’re anything to go by.”_

_Hazel forced a smile on her face._

_“I’m flattered that you think so highly of me, Marshal.”_

_“I expect nothing less from the daughter of Colette, is all. If you are going to raise a child, perfection is to be expected.”_

_She cleared her throat and turned to look at Mars, still occupied with the sword. She knew if she opened her mouth, nothing but vile anger would come out._

_“I’m sure…she would be proud of me, Marshal.”_

_The Marshal scoffed._

_“Well you didn’t turn out to be a useless sod like half the other people here, so that Miqote had some brains in her after all. Must run in the family—bunch of mismatched people somehow raising half-decent individuals.”_

_Hazel looked up at the flame marshal with righteous fury in her eyes. She had to keep her composure, lest she speak out against a superior. But she had to say something, she just had to have the last word._

_“Don’t you know it’s rude to speak ill of the dead, Marshal?”_

* * *

“Hazel?”

A soft voice interrupted her train of thought and the Elezen blinked herself back to reality. In front of her was Mocha, nose deep in an ocean of papers that littered her desk. She looked around more, noticing the empty barracks and low-lit room.

Ah, that’s right. Mocha had swung by the Flame HQ after months away on business and hoped to catch up with Hazel. They made small conversation throughout their busy days, unable to deepen the conversation due to their ever so desperate responsibilities. But as the night fell the two of them were able to hide away in Mocha’s office for the evening and found time to talk as Mocha worked.

“Yes Mocha?” Hazel replied, finally back to this plane of existence.

“Am I reading this document correctly? Are you actually going to be sent to the Ishgard to start a branch of the Flames there?”

Hazel had to blink back the apathy as she tried to remember what exactly they were talking about. She reached for the paper in Mocha’s hands and skimmed it over, the memories of its contents coming back to her.

“Ah…that’s right. Now that Ishgard is back in the alliance, they were trying to commemorate the event with opening proper offices in the city.”

“And…you were chosen to relocate there?”

“Mhm. Me and my squadron will be moving in there in the coming months—I’m not sure why _you_ received a notice about it, however.”

Mocha shrugged, putting the paper down and to the side. She set aside her quill and turned to face Hazel properly. The Elezen could tell something in Mocha had changed, and that the women in front of her wasn’t the same Au Ra she spoke to just a few months ago. She looked…like a weight had been lifted from her or was just happier. Mocha wore a kind of smile that Hazel hadn’t seen from her before, and it warmed her heart. She wondered what could have happened since they last spoke to incur such a new aura from her friend.

“It never hurts to be informed; I suppose.” Mocha said, tucking a few errant strands of her hair back into place. “Speaking of informed, how’s being a Marshal treating you?”

Hazel laughed. She had been a Marshal for all of two months and it felt like nothing had changed in her day to day. If anything, people just seem _very_ adamant on keeping formalities—probably to try and kiss up to Hazel.

“It’s about as interesting as it sounds. Bigger and more wordy documents, spending too much time indoors, meetings after meetings…” She shrugged, trying to sound as disinterested as possible. Hazel wasn’t one to brag, but it did feel nice to have her dedication to the Flames rewarded.

“You make it sound like it’s boring, but I’d rather take the noise of the Flames than noise of being an adventurer.” Mocha replied through a small giggle. “Have you told Mars and the others the good news? I’m sure they’d love to know about your promotion, especially if you’re going to move to Ishgard.”

An awkward silence suddenly filled the air, much to Mocha’s surprise. Hazel turned away and rubbed the back of her head—her face gave an obvious answer to the question: she hadn’t told anyone at all, had she?

“I…have not told anyone about my promotion or the upcoming plans. I think they’ve all been too busy with adventuring, so I hadn’t really taken it upon myself to visit.” Hazel finally said, turning her face to look at the desk in shame. She recalled the memory that played in her head just a few moments ago, feeling a sudden weight upon her shoulders.

Mocha frowned in worry—Hazel always seemed like the kind of person to check up on FM and especially so for Mars. Had worked really kept her so preoccupied?

“I visited them yesterday and they seemed a bit worried about you, it wouldn’t hurt to reach to them.” Mocha smiled, trying her best to lighten up Hazel’s sudden dropped mood. “I know they care about you greatly, and I know they love your company.”

The last sentence seemed to garner a reaction from Hazel, her gaze lifted to look up at Mocha—but there was still a barely flickering light in her eyes that worried the little auri.

“I’m glad to hear that.” Hazel’s voice was barely a whisper now, but she still seemed determine to make conversation. It had been a while since they last spoke, it would be rude not to at least try. “I wouldn’t want to burden them with more issues…”

“Why would they consider you a burden?”

It was an innocent question in Mocha’s mind. She didn’t think it was something rude to ask, but Hazel just looked so distraught suddenly. Her companion sighed, the weight of the burden on her shoulders attempting to suffocate her and push her in the ground.

“Just a feeling, you know. It seems like they and I drift further and further apart since I’m not a full-fledged adventurer. I gave up that mantle when I adopted Mars because I wanted to raise him, and I could only juggle him and a job at the Flames.”

She lifted her eyes up to Mocha who was listening with great intent and dedication. If there was anything Hazel was grateful for, it was knowing that Mocha was a great listener. She continued, baring her heart out to her friend in a moment of sudden weakness.

“I would hate to be that kind of person that constantly seeks Mars and the others out when they’ve flown from the nest already. To constantly baby Mars when he’s turned into someone so capable and independent…no, it would not be nice of me as his older sister to continuously treat him like he cant care for himself.”

Mocha nodded, listening to the words that came out of Hazel’s mouth. She had always known Hazel to be someone of immense confidence and dedication, and to see her so defeated worried her. These worries that plagued her ran deep it seems, perhaps deeper than she’s even willing to let on. She reached out a hand towards Hazel, gently placing it on her forearm to soothe her friend.

“Hazel, I don’t think that’s true as all—I can tell from the way they speak about you that they care greatly. And Mars especially, I’m sure he loves you the most out of all.”

A small smile formed in Hazel’s face.

“…I’m glad to hear that. I would walk to the ends of the earth and back for that kid. He was all I had at the lowest point in my life. I’d take a knife for him if he wasn’t now completely made of muscle and mass.”

“And bad ideas, unfortunately.”

Hazel momentarily broke out of her saddened haze and looked up at Mocha with a crooked smile, raising her eyebrow up at her friend.

“Has Mars said something questionable to you?”

“Ah…” Mocha looked away for a moment, not wanting to suddenly rat out Mars. “Nothing too incriminating, I promise.”

A small smirk came up on Hazel’s face—she needed the moment to just have a laugh.

“Have you ever felt like this before, Mocha?” She looked up to her companion, eyes still locked into her gaze. “Felt like…you’ve outlived your usefulness? That you might just be a burden to those closest to you?”

Mocha returned her hands to her sides and looked up at Hazel, the weight of the question now on her. It caught her off guard, admittedly. She didn't expect a question of such magnitude to come from Hazel, and she worried about what was going on in her friends heart to warrant the question. She pressed her hand against her chest and considered it—if they were both pouring their heart out to each other, then…

“I often do, perhaps more than I’d like to admit.” She closed her eyes, choosing her words carefully as she said them in slow, deliberate tongue. “I’m not as powerful as the rest of Rasa, save for just having enough smarts to cover just about all the positions a free company would need. I never considered myself anything of import, either. Just another auri in the grand scheme of things, despite being one of Hydaelyn’s chosen.”

She looked up at Hazel, who was now looking at her with equal intent as Mocha did before when it was her talking. It felt strange to just let out her insecurities like this, but a part of her felt remiss to not comfort Hazel in their shared securities. They had a lot more in common than they both realized it seemed—both who liked to put on strong fronts but deep down harbored a lot more insecurities and self-hatred that they didn’t want to let out into the open. They cared so much about the safety and comfort of others that they put the needs of others above their own, their empathetic fronts costing them some degree of self-love—but it was worth it to see those they cared about be happy.

“I guess we both have our own problems, huh?” Hazel said, looking at Mocha with a sympathetic gaze. Her eyes swept to the table, the papers, then back to Mocha.

“Yes…equally stubborn and not ones to put ourselves in high regard, yes?”

“Haha, you can say that again.”

A gentle silence befell them again—nothing awkward no. Rather, shared frustrations and insecurities of the heart out into the open eased and soothed their spirits for the moment. It often happens when they’re together it seems, often casual conversations go deeper than anticipated; perhaps that is just the comfortable nature of their conversation.

“Mocha, can you do me a favor?” Hazel broke the silence first, looking at her friend with reignited eyes.

“Yes?”

“Can you promise not to let Mars know about me going to Ishgard?”

“You…can’t be serious.” Mocha said with wide eyes, concern written all over her face. “I think he should at least know where you’re going.”

Hazel stood up, smoothing out her uniform before turning back to Mocha proper.

“He does but…I don’t want to add to the list of worries he needs to think of. If something happens to him because he was worried, I’d never forgive myself.”

“Hazel—”

The Elezen raised her arms up at Mocha, not willing to argue. Mocha was forced to accept—this _was_ her superior technically; she had no choice but to obey whatever command was given to her.

“I know all that Mars has been up to, all the things he’s accomplished, all the friends he’s made, and the people he’s touched with his actions—he’s a hero. His life is worth more than mine ever could be.” She balled her fists up and looked at her friend, a pained expression on her face. “If I die, I can be replaced by any other Flames Marshal who has nothing else to offer to this world—but if Mars dies, I…”

“Hazel…” An equally sad expression fell upon Mocha’s face. She didn’t want Hazel to die, and she knew for a fact that Mars would be heartbroken if anything happened to Hazel—but it seemed like the Elezen wasn’t having it, wasn’t willing to listen to there silent pleads.

“I know what I ask you is selfish, but it’s all for Mars’ sake. Please, can you just keep this between us, for now?”

Mocha didn’t want to. Who was she to lie to Mars like this? It felt like either way someone would suffer from this, be it Mars for not knowing what his sister is up to, or Hazel because she’ll know Mars is worried about her. But, she was a person of her word, and she would not just reject Hazel’s plea, as much as she hated the prospect of it.

She sucked in her breath and answered her friend.

“You have my promise, Hazel.”


	18. endings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mocha and ludovic have a little date, and spend a little quiet time together.

Ludovic enjoyed all the bad habits he was instilling onto Mocha. He already made a habit of visiting her in her office and distracting her, using featherlight touches and kisses on the cheek to stun the poor auri away from all the work she spent too much time on. He pulled her away from work to nap on the couch together, pulled her away to have lunch with him in the canteen— _anything_ , really, to just get her out of that stupid stuffy office of hers. And it worked far too well, to the point where Mocha made an _active effort_ to leave the office and poke her head in the company workshop, asking him about how the machines work and what makes the airships and submersible function. She even went out of her way to take _breaks_ of all things, asking Ludovic if he wanted to join Mocha for walks around the Lavender Beds, or to lounge on the couch together.

It felt like she finally opening up more and wasn’t just sticking herself behind the desk for eight hours straight. He knew being a bad influence on her would have great effects—Bibica seemed to wholeheartedly agree, too.

“I dunno what you did Vic, but I’ve never seen Mocha walk so much around the free company before in my years of knowing her!”

She was seated on the stepladder close to the schematics board, looking up at Ludovic as he worked on the _mac Lir_ submersible in the workshop. He was welding together a giant hole in the side of the ship that seemed to have come from an explosion sometime during an expedition. He was a bit frustrated but was more than happy to distract himself with conversation.

“Aye, well what can I say—Menphina blessed me with _wonderful_ charm.” He replied, lifting his mask up to look at the parts he’s welded together.

“I can _tell_ , you big oaf.” Bibica said, quirking an eyebrow up at him. “And I _still_ haven’t heard a word of thanks for getting you two together! Know what my lil’ Mocha did for me as thanks? She made me _steak_. _STEAK!!_ ”

Ludovic didn’t have to look at Bibica to know that she was practically drooling a pool’s worth of water into the free company. He rolled his eyes and looked down at her, sitting down on the metal railing as he adjusted himself for more repairs.

“Want me to thank ye with work? I got plenty o' it.” He said it as nonchalantly as possible to rile up Bibica—and it worked, he could _hear_ her groan out in anger.

“Oi! I gave you my _blessing_ to date _my_ Mocha! I can take her back you know!” Despite the potential hostile intent in her words Bibica gave a mischievous smile towards Ludovic, causing him to let out a hearty laugh.

“Aye, at least let us 'ave dinner tonight before ye suddenly take 'er from me. 'Ow e'er will I compete with _yer_ charm?”

Now, Bibica being the very _interested_ lady that she was instantly lit up at what Ludovic said, propping her elbows on her knees as she looked up at him.

“Ohohoho, where are you guying having your first little date at!” She said, more of a _demand_ than a simple question. Ludovic rolled his eyes and went back to work, but Bibica continued to gesture wildly for his attention, raising her hands and jumping at the top of the ladder for him.

He eventually gave in to her _desperate_ demands and jumped from the railing towards the main floor, wiping off oil and dust from his clothing as best he can.

“Alright ye nosy bird, we be goin' to some restaurant Zeta told us about in Gridania.” Ludovic moved over to the toolbox near the schematics board and stuffed his equipment into it as he spoke. “They got some decent grub, an' I figured Mocha could use a little somethin' nice.”

Bibica’s smiled curled into something all too mischievous and Ludovic was eager to see what she was about to say.

“Any plans after?”

It sounded like an innocent question _so far_.

“I dunno. Walk 'er 'ome, probably.”

“And…what if she invites you inside… _for dessert_?”

Ah, there it was.

Ludovic couldn’t help but laugh, slamming the toolbox shut as he stood up and turned to look at Bibica, keeled over on the stepladder in laughter.

“Now I know ye be fuckin' drunk.” Ludovic said, smiling all the while—it _was_ rather late in the evening, so it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary if Rai’ji opened the bar for all to drink. Bibica regained some measure of composure and wiped the tear from her eye, small gasps of laughter escaping her body as she spoke.

“ _Sorry_ , can’t blame me for teasing ya, Vic.” She propped her elbows on her knees again and spoke in a much softer tone. “I’m just really happy for you both, but especially for Mocha, you know. I gotta make sure you aren’t gonna do anything to hurt her unless you want me to beat you with my cane!”

A scoff of surprise left Ludovic’s mouth—sure he might look like an intimidating bastard, but his intentions towards Mocha were honest and true, and he most certainly wouldn’t want to do anything to hurt her. Perhaps his cheeky front might be finally backfiring on him… Regardles, he loved Mocha, and knew that Mocha loved him; the last thing he’d want to do was try and take advantage of her kindness when he wanted to continue seeing her.

“Ye 'ave me word that there I'll ne'er do anythin' to make 'er cry, Bibs.” Ludovic said, his tone unusually serious as an indicator of his promise and dedication to Mocha. “An' if I do, ye get first dibs at clawin’ me eyes out.”

Bibica gave a warm smile and finally bounced off the stepladder.

“Good, I’m glad to hear that, Vic.” She said. The Lalafell made her way towards the front door of the workshop, intent on leaving him alone until their big date.

…But not before turning back to face him with her hands on her cheeks, and a dreamy look on her face.

“I _do_ want grandchildren, you know! So, if you and Mocha hit it off today—”

Ludovic then _gently_ reached over to Bibica and picked her up by the collar of her shirt, chucking his friend out of the workshop as the echoes of her laughter rung through the hallway. What the hell was he going to do with this woman?

* * *

They had to hand it to Zeta, the man clearly had a knack for finding restaurants to eat at. It was a botanical garden that house a restaurant inside it, the atmosphere being spectacularly calm and quiet with the sounds of fountains and man-made waterfalls surrounding them as they ate. Mocha was completely enthralled by the plethora of flowers that surrounded them, taking plenty of photos of them to ask Serina about to see if they could raise some for the free company house. Ludovic was more impressed with the food—he wasn’t one for the obnoxiously decorative and almost artsy plates of food that most cities had adapted to. This place however, had simple, hearty meals that gave the pair a nice, warm, and satisfied feeling inside as they ate.

It was nice to just have a somewhat private moment alone too. It’s only been a month since they formally started dating, but the time practically flew by. Their old work habits had stuck true, with their only moments of privacy are in the stolen glances and kisses they could spare between work and other obligations.

“Do you have any plans after this?” Mocha asked, swirling her glass of wine nonchalantly as she spoke to Ludovic who was leaning back into his chair.

“No, not really. Probably fixin' to go back to me room in the company 'ouse an' call it a day.” He took a sip of his beer and leaned forward in his chair, reaching his hand out to Mocha’s, and held it gently. “But before that, gotta make sure I see ye 'ome safe an' sound.”

Mocha smiled, squeezing his hand back affectionately.

“Um, if you’d like, you’re more than welcome to stay the night at my place.” She said, cheeks flushed as a small, embarrassed smile stretched across her face. “It’s better than having to go all the way back to Gridania, yes?”

Ludovic raised an eyebrow at her—was this another one of Bibica’s tricks? It would save him the hassle of having to fly back to Gridania, but the last thing he’d want is to overstep some boundaries.

“Ye sure? Don't wanna impose on ye in yer own 'ouse.”

“I-I’m sure, yes. I’m really enjoying this dinner and…” Mocha looked down towards their hands, not able to finish the rest of the sentence while looking directly at Ludovic. “I, um, don’t want to leave you just yet, y-you know?”

It would be rude to laugh, Ludovic knew this, but there was just something utterly innocent and cute about her request that he couldn’t help but smile at the very least. He lifted her hand up to his mouth and kissed it, watching with smug glee as she shivered at his touch—it added a point to his ego to know that _still_ made her heart flutter.

“Aye, if ye just wanted to 'ave me all to yerself, we coulda skipped this here dinner.” He said to her, keeping his voice low and deep to make her as flustered as possible, and of course it made him smug as hell to see it working. Mocha tried to keep that calm composure she always had, but it was incredibly difficult when Ludovic was trying to unravel her at every opportunity.

“I know, but, um…You offered so I figured…a little date would set the mood…” Mocha said, a small smile on her face all the while.

It was strange to see Mocha act so coy, be so _suggestive_ in her requests. It was a refreshing change of pace, to say the least.

“Pft. 'Ells Mocha, ye goin' to be the death o' me.” Ludovic said with a laugh. Mocha smiled back yet again and let out a small giggle that sent a flare of warmth in his heart.

“Most likely, considering my habits. But…” She finally turned her gaze from their hands back to look at Ludovic proper. Mocha’s eyes were soft and filled with adoration, her limbal rings somehow brighter and full of life as they looked into his eyes. “…you love me for it, yes?”

If her last sentence didn’t send Ludovic’s into a lovesick mess, well, that certainly did—for many reasons really: hearing her say ‘love’ without bursting into flames, the way she turned away almost immediately with a look of accomplishment, the way her smile seemed to lighten up Ludovic’s heart whenever she gave him one. Truly, it was a sight to behold.

“Aye, I do love ye. Although yer 'abits was more o' an...extra, all things considered.” He replied after snapping out of his lovestruck haze.

“Hey, I’m not as bad as everyone thinks.”

Ludovic gave a feigned expression of pain, causing Mocha to pout—by Hydaelyn, if that cute expression of hers was a _pout_ it’s all over for Ludovic. How could he possibly say no to her? He’d feel _far_ too bad.

“I’m just saying, ye didn’t realize 'ow nice naps could be until I practically dragged ye from yer chair towards the couch with me.”

“But that’s because it’s nice to, you know…” Mocha looked around as if terrified of showing continual affection would cause an uproar in a public setting. “…it’s nice to rest my head against your chest, you know?”

And there was yet another shot directly to the heart—she _had_ to be doing this on purpose truly. Ludovic clasped his hand on his mouth to try and smother the smile and the blush that was suddenly forming across his face.

“Can ye knock the cute down a little? I’m tryin' to scold ye 'ere!”

 _Now_ Mocha herself was in on the blushing extravaganza, both trying to hide the blushes that was causing them to momentarily avoid each other’s gazes. Ludovic couldn’t remember the last time he was _this_ flustered in front of someone before, and he knew Mocha was most certainly not aware of how she’s acting—she was probably just running off pure instinct and reactions, by the looks of it.

The waiter came by with the check and a bottle of wine, offering a complimentary refill (and a chance to breathe) to the pair. Already feeling drunken off the highs of newfound love (and their alcohol of course), Mocha and Ludovic decided to decline, instead choosing to pay the check and make their way out towards the Mists. Hopefully the cold air of the night would help relax the pair as they departed the restaurant, eager to have just a few more quiet moments alone.

❧

Part of the reason Mocha chose to settle in the Mists was because of how bright it was in La Noscea. Despite often keeping herself cooped up in the offices of the Immortal Flames and of Tabula Rasa’s company mansion, her house in the Mists was anything but. She spent most of her time in the front yard, looking out towards the sea from her clifftop view, or watching the steady stream of people walk around the residential district during the bright, sunny days. If she yearned to move about she’d take a walk of her own—much like she and Ludovic were doing now.

“Bloody 'ells this place be bigger than they describe it.” Ludovic said, walking along the admiral’s waterspire with Mocha in tow and their arms linked together. It was a quiet evening, with a few Eorzeans out walking their pets or just taking gentle strolls of their own.

“It’s a little overwhelming at times, but thankfully everyone is friendly.” Mocha said. Around the corner from them were a pair Maelstrom officers, chatting between each other as they took turns keeping watch around the area. “The Maelstrom also make it feel a little safer.”

Ludovic scoffed—they were just pirates after all. Very haughty ones at that.

“Well, it be a good thin' I be 'ere now. Don't need to rely on them fuckers any longer.” He said with that signature cocky smile, flexing his arm up at Mocha. She giggled in response, tightening her grip on Ludovic’s arm as they made their way towards her house. 

The sky above them was still clear as can be, the stars still twinkling and shining brightly. It served as a perfect backdrop once the couple arrived at Mocha’s house, the auri gently tugging Ludovic’s arm as she brought him towards the wooden deck that overlooked the ocean. She motioned for him to sit first as the guest, and he gladly did so—but not before putting his hands on her waist and dragging Mocha with him, seating her on his lap. Mocha found herself immediately relaxing in his lap, the warm embrace of his arms around her and his lips pressed against her shoulders a deadly combination that her at east immediately. Ludovic parted from her for a second to remove his jacket and wrap it around her, surrounding her body with further warmth as the pair looked out into the sea and towards the stars.

“One 'ell o' a view. Guess I can see why ye spend a lot o' time 'ere.” Ludovic said.

“Thank you. I really lucked out here, and it’s been really useful for some of those rough days that seem to follow whenever we hang out with the Scions.” Mocha’s voice was equal measure stress and relief—she dedicated herself fully to the Scions as a Warrior of Light, but it didn’t make their adventure any less _stressful_. She was grateful for the controlled safe spaces she had like this, where she was cut off from responsibilities and all she had to worry about was just _breathing_.

“Glad to see ye do remember to relax.” Ludovic replied, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of her neck, feeling her react instantaneously with a shiver. “Been worried I'd really 'ave to go 'ard on 'elpin' ye with that there.”

Mocha laughed at the comment, realizing once more that while having a studious and diligent reputation was all well in good for the Scions, it could have poor reputation amongst her friends. Admittedly, she wasn’t really one to care for herself as best as she should be when she gets into her self-obsessive work stupor.

“Hey, I’d like to think I’m getting better.” She placed her hands on top of his and interlocked their fingers together, giving them a gentle squeeze. “I remember to eat the lunch I make for us, now.”

Ludovic let out a chuckle that melted into a sigh.

“Aye, but that because I 'ave to drag ye to the canteen to eat with me.”

“Hey, that’s still better than most people.”

The two of them chuckled once more, with Ludovic in particular letting out a small groan by the end of it.

“Well I regret to inform ye I intend to do a lot to remind ye to care fer yerself.”

“Oh, is that so?” Mocha said, turning to face him fully. “What do you…have in mind?”

There was an unfamiliar tone of challenge in her voice—she did say she didn’t want this night to end earlier at the restaurant, perhaps this was one of those hooks? Luckily for her Ludovic was willing to take any opportunity to spend more time with Mocha, so who was he was decline such an invitation?”

“Well, I'll be more than 'appy to show ye.”

Ludovic gently lifted Mocha’s chin towards him, running his thumb against the soft skin of her lips and eliciting a small gasp from her. He dipped towards her and pressed their lips together with obnoxious gentleness, featherlight kisses frustrating Mocha who was hoping for something a little _more_ from the moment—and so, being the somewhat impatient person that she was, the little auri took the reigns and deepened it, pushing back against her boyfriend as she found herself enthralled in the moment.

She pushed Ludovic gently back into the chair, parting from him for a moment to adjust her position, straddling him before returning to the comfort of his embrace and his kisses. He moved his hands across her body, slipping under her dress and dragging his nails across Mocha’s skin, causing her to moan into Ludovic’s mouth as he continued to mark her skin with gentle fervor. He parted from her mouth despite the noise of disapproval from Mocha, and kissed along her chin, moving his lips further and further down her body.

“W-wait…” Mocha muttered out as Ludovic took his time kissing along her collarbone and chest. “D-do you, um, wanna come inside…?”

There was a small moment of silence as he considered her request, smiling into her skin as he tried to hold back a chuckle.

“That be quite an offer Mocha—and on a first date no less.” Ludovic said, stilling his mouth on her neck as his hands held a firm grip on her ass. “Ain’t thought ye loved me that much.”

He could feel Mocha’s hand reach up into his hair and tug, gently pulling him back from her body as she tried to reign him in. Her face was red and disheveled, her usual degree of composure off balance from the heat of the moment. It was a look that served her well, and Ludovic was _very_ eager to see more of it.

“I-I mean…do you _want_ to sleep over?” She asked again, clarifying her statement so that a certain Highlander of her affections wouldn’t attempt to fluster her to hell and back. Ludovic considered the question, tilting his head to the side and feigning interest, teasing Mocha with coy smiles and eyes that darted from her eyes, her lips and the rest of her body. The answer was obvious from the get-go, but Ludovic liked to take his sweet time and make her wait to see her steadily lose composure.

“I'd be more than 'appy to, Mocha.”


	19. too little, too late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The events that happened at Baelsar’s Wall felt like such a waking nightmare—everything happening too fast, a memory that was too painful for them to want to relive ever again.

It was a massacre, as Yda had said. Blood and bone had covered Baelsar’s War, dying breaths of curses and pain weighing down the atmosphere with a crushing might.

“An ending to mark a new beginning!” Ilberd cried out as he tossed himself from the apex of the wall, his blood and the blood of the hundreds already around him, brothers and sisters in arms with all too raw desire and power allowing their souls to serve as a catalyst for the primal.

“Well, can’t we stop it!? There must be something we can do!” Yda cried out in a shattered voice that swelled with fear and confusion at the sight of the ritual’s completion in front of her.

The air was thick with malicious magicks and death hung heavy in everyone’s thoughts and minds as they stared up at the beam of light in front of them. For all her talent at magicks not even Mocha could figure out what to do as she stared at the beam, so wildly unfamiliar with this type of summoning that she had no clue where to begin. Ludovic and Zeta held tightly onto their weapons—this wasn’t their playing field, both equally unfamiliar with magicks that they couldn’t possibly know where to begin. Bibica, in turn, stared at Papalymo—surely, he had a plan.

“There is one thing…” He said, a mage of unspeakable talent, always prepared for everything. He walked closer to the edge of the arena, and a look of unease came upon Bibica’s face as he moved.

“H-hey, where do you think you’re going?” She said, chasing after him as he walked. Bibica’s look of unease delved deeper into concern, sensing something amiss in the serious face that Papalymo wore. He turned to look to her, speaking not just to her but the rest of the group.

“Master Louisoix briefly contained Bahamut by means of a potent spell of sealing. I will now attempt to do the same.” Papalymo said, drawing forth Tupsimati from his pocket as he approached the light. There would be no need to spend the hours and days necessary to collect the materials and the aether to draw upon such a powerful spell—especially when one would offer both themselves and the staff to the spell.

His words hung heavy and stunned all—they knew the fate that befell Louisoix, the weight of such a spell taking a toll on the spellcaster to the point of death. It would result in his demise and everyone immediately reacted, attempting to dissuade the Lalafell from offering his life to seal whatever primal would soon be set upon them. The distant roaring of an airship approached, causing for voices to only grow louder in concern and frustration as Yugiri ordered them onto the airship, and Papalymo urged them on.

“No! I’m not leaving you behind!” Bibica shouted, reaching for Papalymo’s shoulder and holding it tight. “You stubborn Lala!”

“If you’re staying, then I’m staying too!” Yda shared Bibica’s sentiments, moving closer to her friend’s side.

But he would not have it, would not allow these two equally stubborn women have the end of this.

“No, you two! There is a path only you can walk, and it must _not_ end here—not like this!” Papalymo’s voice was equally angry, and equally frightened as well. He too, knew the gravity of the situation, knew what he was getting himself into and would not let his dear friends suffer the same fate.

He turned to look at Thancred, Ludovic and Zeta, his voice pleading and begging as he commanded for them to take Bibica and Yda away. The three of them looked in shock at him before gritting their teeth, moving quickly as possible to snatch up the two of them before they could retaliate. Mocha reached for Alphinaud’s hand and dragged him away, much to his dismay as they boarded the airship.

Yda kicked and screamed Thancred with all her might, desperately trying to wrangle herself out of his grasp. Bibica too, struggled against the collective might of Ludovic and Zeta holding onto her—but what she had against Yda was the all-powerful dexterity that comes with a small stature. She counterbalanced her weight against the two men and wiggled out of their grasp, rolling off the airship with an awkward roll as she stumbled back towards Papalymo, gripping tightly to his arm as he looked at her with wide-eyed terror.

“Bibi! This is one battle you cannot fight!” He tried to swipe her away, trying to squirm out of her grasp with all his might. “Away with you, go!”

But Bibica refused, she was stubborn as hell and wasn’t about to sit back and watch Papalymo just give his life away for them.

“Absolutely not! You are _not_ going to do this alone you asshole!” She screamed at him, holding tightly as she could as the wracking anxiety and sadness clawed at her.

“Bibica, _please_ —”

“No, no, no, no, fuck you!” Bibica screamed, the tears now streaming down her face. “How dare you do something so _selfish_! Who cares if the stupid thing is summoned, we can fight it without having to lose you! We’ve done it before! We can handle it!”

It all felt like a horrible, bad dream.

“That’s not how this works, you _know_ that! If we let this beast be summoned like this, there won’t be time for you all to escape!”

Bibica shook her head. There could be no excuse he offered her that would shake her from where she stood.

“I don’t care! You don’t have to kill yourself to save us! Please, just come with us! I won’t let you die on me, you dummy! I don’t…I can’t…” She wrapped her arms around him as she buried her head in his shoulders. She sobbed and sobbed, scared of what would happen if she opened her eyes. “Please don’t leave me, I _beg_ of you, Papalymo. Don’t leave me alone without you…! I can’t…I _can’t_ …”

There were so many words she wanted to say to him, so many things Bibica wanted to confess to Papalymo. If this was to be their last moment together, then please let this all just be a very bad dream that soon she would wake from. Let this be a trick of a nightmare and let her wake up in her bed with nothing more than a hangover.

If Hydaelyn truly, truly loved her children, then surely this was all but a nightmare.

“I may have been Louisoix’s finest student…” He said, holding tightly to Bibica as he felt his cheek wet with Bibica’s tears. “But you were always my finest love. It’s a shame I never got to tell you until now, Bibi.”

All he could offer her was a kiss, a fleeting moment of shared affection and love despite the anger in her voice, the rage and sadness that wracked Bibica in her core. She knew the moment she let go, he would be lost to her. Never again would they walk the same path together, instead having to bear the weight of knowing she lives on because of his sacrifice—Bibica would not survive without him. She held on tightly as the sobs left her body, a silent plea in a desperate attempt to burn to memory the warmth of his arms around her.

Its why he was forced to use his magic on her when everyone else had boarded the airship. It pained him to do so, to hurt the person he loved the most—but he would not let her die here, no. Bibica, the Scions, Rasa…they all had a future, all had stories to tell and paths to walk.

Papalymo would not let it end here. Even if it meant his life for theirs, he would make sure that they lived to tell their tale—Bibica, most of all.

* * *

“Bibica?” Mocha knocked on her companion’s bedroom door in the Rasa mansion. She knew that her Bibica was still locked inside, refusing to leave the known safety and comforts of her room. She’d only been allowing Zeta into the room, but today their dragoon companion was out in the fields with Thancred, leaving Bibica to her lonesome. Mocha was sure that Bibica didn’t want to be overwhelmed with company, but she wasn’t going to leave her companion by the wayside. She knocked on the door once more, still to no avail.

“I made you a simple breakfast. It’s oatmeal with honey, oats, and a banana...there’s also a glass of water too. I figured something simple would help your stomach…” She shuffled awkwardly in place, unsure about what to do; Bibica hadn’t come to the door yet. “…I’m gonna leave the food here. Please try to eat it before it gets too cold, okay?”

She placed the tray of food on the ground and knocked one more time, convinced that Bibica might still be asleep, or just unwilling to allow Mocha anywhere near her. The auri was used to being first in line to reach out to her friends when they needed a shoulder to cry on, willing to do whatever she could to make them feel better. The fact she couldn’t reach Bibica and help her was stressing Mocha out—she wasn’t sure how to handle this.

But it would be remiss to just force her company, she realized as she walked out of the residential floor. Mocha made her way back to her office, unsure of what exactly to do with Bibica as it stands. When she arrived to her office X’hrie was there, seated at her own desk with a frown on her face.

“I take it you were visiting Bibica?” She asked, pinching the bridge of her nose. The poor Miqote looked like she had a lot on her mind.

“Yes and no. She didn’t open the door, but I left her some breakfast to get her eating, hopefully…” Mocha replied, moving to her desk and sitting down in her chair.

It had been three days since the events that took place at Baelsar’s Wall—and of Papalymo’s death. Everyone was in low spirits and high in stress and exhaustion, being forced to work through the grief with barely any chance of respite or moment to reflect. Such was the nature of being a Warrior of Light, it seemed. Mocha felt like she was having a crisis of faith, unable to offer her undivided attention to her friend due to the tight grip of responsibility that came with her position. It hurt to be powerless to help a friend, unsure if her presence would even do anything to help Bibica or if it would just make it all worse.

“Y’shtola and Alphinaud are going to be visiting shortly. We need to come up with a plan for our next moves towards Rhalgr’s Reach and to the rest of Gyr Abania.” X’hrie said, looking over to the equally as exhausted auri. “Would you be so kind as accompany me?”

Mocha wanted to say no so badly—she could _really_ go for a nap and she’s been awake for all of four hours at most. But she was once more not the kind of person to say no to her work and duty, despite the stress and exhaustion she felt.

“Of course, I’ll lend my hand if you need it. I’ll prepare some drinks as well.” Mocha finally said, letting out a soft sigh as she prepared to stand up after getting comfy in her chair.

“Thank you. I’ll get the war room ready then.” X’hrie, however, quickly accepted her responsibilities and stood up. She let out a sigh of her own and breathed out her own frustrations and stress out into the open. Both of them wanted to do anything _but_ be responsible but worked never ended for them it seemed—and all they could do was hope that some respite would come soon.  
  


❧  
  


Bibica felt like she was adrift at sea. Her thoughts were muddled puddles of fleeting thoughts that came and went, mixing with alcoholic fueled tendencies. Self-destructive tendencies that had her lying down in her bed as she stared blankly at the ceiling, that had her drinking bottle after bottle of alcohol and letting her body decay and waste away in the four walls that she called a room.

Zeta came in often, because of course he did—he had to see keep her alive _somehow_ , had to keep her tied to this mortal realm and refused to let her fall through the seams. He combed her hair and spoke about her friends as he attempted to wrangle a limp body that wanted nothing more than to just vanish into nothingness.

“They’re worried about you.” Zeta would say.

And Bibica would say nothing. What could she say? What could she offer when she was nothing more than a husk of her former self, a body that was simply continuing with no purpose in life? Papalymo was gone and in their final moments together all they did was argue and scream, him taking the brunt of her insults despite the smile he gave her, despite the love and affection that glossed in his eyes as he held her tight and kissed her. So many words unsaid, so many moments lost to the primal’s summoning.

She could not bear the weight of his death. She knew that as a Scion, she’d have to move on. They would not let her grieve and let her reflect—she had to move on. And she could not, she would not. Bibica _loved_ Papalymo. There were no words to describe the pain that comes with a grief-stricken heart. Even the scars she wore from his magic attack felt like nothing more than scratches when she thought about the pain of knowing he would no longer be by her side.

Every part of her just _hurt._ And it felt like nothing she did to numb the pain worked.

Mocha knocked on her door often—every day since the events at Baelsar’s Wall. Brought her food that she lovingly made for Bibica, a small gesture of her care and affection for her friend. It took so much effort for Bibica to move, to leave the comfort of a bottle to even consider looking Mocha in the face. She had been so strong for Mocha before, offering so much for her favorite auri as the big sister Bibica was. But now the table had turned, with Bibica being the one that Mocha was now trying to care for.

Bibica knew how busy she was, especially now that a new primal was loose and doing Hydaelyn knows what. For Mocha to be taking time out of her day to do such a gesture for Bibica sparked some measure of life in Bibica’s heart—if she had the will to say thank you, she would have. Instead, she made every little hellish effort to push through her seemingly endless hangover and opened the door after Mocha left, gently taking the tray of homemade food, and eating it at an agonizingly slow pace. She could feel Mocha’s love with each bite of food, today in particular being grateful for the breakfast that required little effort to eat and served to make Bibica feel somewhat alive.

She pushed the tray onto her dinner table and moved to the cabinet, reaching for another bottle of alcohol, and bringing it with her to bed. She stared out her window and looked out to the waterfall that the mansion overlooked, the scenic view of the sparkling water rushing down into the large lake bellow. It was a beautiful sight and Bibica was fortunate to see the view from her room—in most circumstances she would probably have stared longer, sighing dreamily at the sights of nature’s bounty in front of her.

But for now, the only comfort she could find was in alcohol.  
  


❧  
  


Ludovic wondered if he had a knack for knowing when Mocha was stressed. He didn’t have a lick of magical capability in his body, but he just had an overwhelming feeling in his gut, something that told him to seek Mocha out and check up on her. The shit in the workshop could wait, but Mocha could not. So, he put away his tools and made his way back to the main foyer and towards the war room where X’hrie, Mocha, Y’shtola and Alphinaud were busy conversing. He was pleased to see he was right—Mocha, to her credit, was as calm and composed as ever, listening intently to Y’shtola update the rest of them on the current state of affairs with the city-states and the whereabouts of the primal.

But the second they made eye-contact he could see the overwhelming stress and anxiety that most certainly wracked her body. She was too good at hiding her current state of being, it seemed. Ludovic made his way proper into the room, rounding the table and tussling Alphinaud’s hair before leaning against Mocha’s chair and placing his arm on her shoulder.

“Ludovic, I’ll have you know I _just_ combed this!” Alphinaud said, smoothing his hair back down as he frowned over at Ludovic. “Mocha, your boyfriend is being _mean_ to me!”

Mocha laughed, giving a somewhat pitiable look at Alphinaud—she had made the potentially unwise decision to spoil the twins during their time together, and both had a very bad habit of seeing Mocha as a big sister. What was meant to be more _formal_ conversations ended up devolving into familiar, casual affair.

“My apologies, Alphinaud. I’ll be sure to scold him for that later.” Mocha said, hoping to soothe her companion. Alphinaud grumbled out a word of thanks, crossing his arms and pouting up at Ludovic.

Y’shtola cleared her throat and turned toward their new guest, a look of confusion in her face.

“In all seriousness, Vic, to what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?”

Ludovic motioned to Mocha with a smirk on his face.

“Aye, just need to borrow me lass fer a little bit. 'opefully ye all don't mind.”

X’hrie raised an eyebrow at the request and turned to Alphinaud and Y’shtola.

“ _Are_ we done here?”

Y’shtola tapped a finger against her cheek, considering X’hrie’s question.

“I think we can call it for today.” She turned to look at Ludovic, a mischievous smile on her face. “I’m sure Mocha has more _pressing_ matters to deal with, I take it?”

Ludovic laughed as Mocha stood up and gave a small courtesy to excuse herself from the war room. He reached for her hand and led her downstairs towards the library, the change of scenery much needed if the sigh Mocha let out was anything to go by. Ludovic sat on the couch and motioned for Mocha to join him, tossing herself onto the plush surface as she rested her head on his lap—by the Twelve she sure as hell needed this.

“Thank you for that. I worry if I stayed there any longer, I might have started to lose focus.” She said, closing her eyes as letting out yet another sigh. Ludovic smiled down at her, running his fingers through her hair and playing with it gently.

“No problem. 'ad a feelin' that there somethin' been up an' figured ye needed a breather.”

Mocha nodded and frowned, brows furrowing as she was no doubt losing herself to some stray thought that entered her head.

“Aye, lemme guess: Bibs?”

She nodded and sighed _again_.

“I don’t know what to do with her. I’m worried but I don’t want to overwhelm her…I feel like it’ll just make things worse, somehow.” Mocha’s tone saddened, the creeping rise of anxiety climbing up her spine and into her lungs.

“Aye, I be...pretty worried too. But ye can't expect to just make 'er feel better overnight, ye know.” Ludovic said, moving his hand from the top of Mocha’s head down to her cheek, running his fingers along it in another attempt to calm her down. She sighed, a look of frustration drawing itself along her face.

“I know but…I just feel useless right now. I hate not being able to do anything.”

“Oi, stop bein' so 'ard on yerself.” He pinched her nose, causing Mocha to let out a squeak of disapproval. “Ye've been makin' Bibs 3 course meals since we got back. Makin' sure someone doesn't starve to death be pretty important.”

Mocha bit her lip—he had a point, admittedly.

“I suppose that’s true…especially with all the alcohol she’s drinking.”

“Aye, exactly.”

Silence fell between them again, Mocha opting to close her eyes again to try and get a small nap in. She could feel herself being lulled to sleep by Ludovic’s gentle touches, the warmth of his hand so comforting and warm that she decided to allow herself a simple indulgence of momentary rest from this hectic week.

Tomorrow would be a new day, and hopefully a better one for Bibica, she hoped.

* * *

Bibica tried to wait by the door today, knowing that Mocha would come by today to deliver her lunch. Zeta was kind enough to dispose of all the bottles of alcohol that littered the room, so if she came inside at least it would look somewhat presentable. The knocks on the door were almost comically punctual—at noon exactly three gentle knocks were on the door and she slowly reached for the knob, hearing Mocha’s gentle, muffled voice on the opposite side. She opened the door slowly, parting it enough to peer through the crack to see her favorite auri with yet another tray of homemade food.

Mocha blinked, a bit surprised to see Bibica actually open the door and meeting her (somewhat) face-to-face. She gave a worried smile at her companion, pleased to see her still moving and able.

“H-hey Bibica. How’re you?” Mocha asked—it felt like a stupid question, obviously knowing that Bibica was probably going through one of the roughest patches in her life at this time. She hoped her friend would forgive her for such a dumb question.

Bibica nodded. Despite all the alcohol in her bloodstream and that she’s consumed, her throat felt dry and croaked, incapable of offering words to someone dear to her.

Mocha wanted to step into the room and talk to her friend proper, but once more that desperate thread that wanted to respect boundaries and keep decorum was keeping her from reacting. Besides, Maybe Bibica just didn’t want the company right now…

“Um…I’ve made you lunch today. I’ve been giving you simple meals but I, uh, wondered if you’d want something heartier.” Mocha moved the tray closer to the door and towards Bibica as a gesture of kindness. “It’s heavensegg soup. It’s got bacon, onion, eggs, and thick chunks of bacon. I, um, also made a little kaiser roll in case the soup is too much to eat…”

Bibica said nothing, staying quiet as her eyes drifted from the tray to Mocha’s gentle face. She parted the door open fully, breaking the one barrier between them. Mocha could see her clearly, illuminated by the light of the hallway—her eyes carried bags of sleepless nights and streams of tears that poured from her body for hours on end. Mocha knew that her friend was in a trance, staggering a fine line of life and death, only alive because those around her refused to let her drown in the endless abyss of depression and grief.

She reached out to the tray with shaky, weak hands. Bibica was grateful that Mocha seemed to know this ahead of time, keeping the tray steady until it was properly transferred to her favorite Lalafell. Once again Bibica could smell the loving touch Mocha put into the meal, the waft of a home cooked meal putting a small smile on her face.

“…Thanks, hun.” She managed to croak out, tired eyes looking up at Mocha properly. Mocha returned the smile to Bibica, hoping that the warm sentiments and comforts of the simple gesture was enough to let her know that she’d stand by her until the bitter end.

Bibica had done so much for Mocha, more than she can ever put into words. And so, it was now Mocha’s turn to do what she could for Bibica.


	20. six months ago

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mocha dreams of home as the scions set their sights towards kugane.

“Here’s your tea, ma’am.”

Mocha was seated on her deck, overlooking the residential district of the Mists. It was unusually cloudy today, but the Eorzeans around did not seem to mind as they went about their everyday tasks, unfazed by the lack of sunlight. She turned to look at the tea her retainer placed for her, the all too familiar scent of chamomile and honey filling her with much needed moments of calm and relaxation.

The Raen that gave her the tea stepped back from the table, watching Mocha sip the tea with relative apathy, most certainly lost in thought.

“Thank you, Kodama. I appreciate you making this for me.” Mocha said, giving a smile to her retainer who was no doubt worried about her. Kodama _was_ in fact worried, and knew that this current state that Mocha was in was not something she could solve with tea and kind words. So, she did what she did best: she prostrated herself in front of Mocha and dispelled the retainer glamour she wore on a daily basis, revealing a fully garbed set of ninja armor—weapons and all.

“Please, allow me to travel with you to Kugane!” Kodama exclaimed, her voice cracking in her desperate plea towards that which she swore her life to. She could hear Mocha sigh, putting down the teacup as she shifted in her chair to look at her retainer proper.

“Kodama, you know what won’t be necessary. I will be surrounded by both the Scions and Rasa on my travels; there won’t be need for you there.” Mocha tried to sound confident in her response, looking down at her retainer with a frown. She hated to command and make demands of them, and she particularly hated when they acted like she was some sort of royalty that demands upmost respect. Mocha preferred to be on equal ground with her retainers, but some old habits die hard.

“My lady, I beg of you! Your family still lingers in Kugane—your brother in the sekiseigumi, and your father still holds major influence in the city…not even the Scions could use their affluence and smooth tongues to bend the laws to you as it stands.” Kodama knew she was talking to a brick wall, knew that her pleas were falling on deaf ears. But she did not care, she needed Mocha to know that she was willing to put her life on the line to protect her—this is what was raised to do!

Mocha pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed yet again.

“That assumes they recognize me after these few years, considering the lengths we went to try and change my appearance” Mocha said, running a hand across her face, tips of her fingers skirting the scar that lined her face. “…Not to mention I highly doubt they’d thing _I_ of all people would actually ever go into battle.”

Kodama let out a voice of concern, her tail waggling about sadly.

“Even so, my lady…to leave without your retainers…!” She fisted her hands in anger and felt her voice shaken as she tried to hold back the tears from flowing down her face. “I cannot allow it! Should harm befall you while I’m not there—”

“Kodama.”

Mocha’s voice cut Kodama’s train of thought, causing the Raen to look up at her lady with wide eyes.

“Yes, my lady?”

“Is there anything I can do to ease your worry?” Mocha’s eyes searched her retainer, desperate to reassure her that her life was not forfeit, and that she would survive the trip there with her life intact. She could tell from the look on Kodama’s face that there could possibly be nothing to set the girl’s heart at ease, so used to being by Mocha’s side that the thought of no longer being there was enough to break her will in two.

She had a right to worry of course—Mocha had not left Kugane on good terms, and the thought of having to return was most certainly less than pleasant. It was stressing her out as well, unable to come up with an idea of how she was going to cope once she was back in her old homeland. Once more she realized that being a Warrior of Light was more trouble than it was worth, and being a member of the Scions more so.

“Will you at least allow me to reach out to my friends so that they may watch over you in my stead?” Kodama sat up, tone a bit firmer now as her own stress was now under more control. “I know of a network inside Kugane that can offer you protection should something go awry…”

Mocha once more sighed—she _was_ capable of fending for herself, after all. But if it made her retainer feel better…

“Very well. Contact who you need to contact, but tell them they can _only_ reach out to me if my life really is in danger.” Mocha said to Kodama. “I don’t want Rasa and the Scions to have yet _more_ things to worry about.”

Her retainer’s eyes lit up at the prospect of Mocha having some degree of protection for her journey. It made Mocha happy to see her retainer in a better mood, and she supposed the extra protection would put her at ease.

Mocha’s memories of home only ever remind her of the reason she left. She can’t remember the good, of the training she did as a child under the tutelage of a red mage, or the memories she had with her little brother running around the streets of Kugane. All her memories had to go back to that moment, to the day she left because she couldn’t bear the thought of continuing along on someone else’s strings, of not having a will of her own. Mocha and two of her trusted retainers bought passage onto the only boat they could find, letting it take them wherever they went so long as it was far away from Kugane.

She took on a new name and a new identity to bury the past and start anew. So long as no one asked, so long as no one looked too past the walls she put up to distance herself from others, keeping herself from getting too close—

But she failed at that the second she joined Rasa, the second she decided to become friends with them. She failed when she joined the Scions, failed when she learned about being a warrior of light and became a recognized eikon slayer across Eorzea. She failed when she opened her heart to Ludovic, allowing herself a moment of weakness and comfort in the embrace of another, knowing that one day he too would know the truth.

Mocha wasn’t sure how long she could keep the charade up once they arrive in Kugane. If all goes well, hopefully she won’t run into her family and everything will go smoothly. Worst case scenario, well—

Hopefully it doesn’t come to that, right?

* * *

_“Your hair has gotten long, Sarnai.” Her mother said, running a slow hand through her jet-black hair. “Would you like me to cut it?”_

_Sarnai raised her eyes to look at her mother, considering her words before answering._

_“No, mother. Father says that longer hair suits me.”_

_Her mother giggled; a brow raised up as she looked at her daughter. She always knew when Sarnai was lying—her daughter was many things, but a liar she was not. All one has to do is try to maintain eye contact with Sarnai when she spoke a lie, and take note to how difficult it is to suddenly maintain the contact, despite being someone who always made a habit of being respectful._

_“Longer hair does look good on you, but what do you want, dear?”_

_Sarnai blinked, turning down to look at her lap instead of looking at her mother directly._

_“…I want to cut it short, mother.”_

_“Then I’ll speak with your father when he gets home, and we’ll get it cut before your wedding.”_

_Sarnai swallows at the word. She knows her mother sees it, but it’s not like she was hiding her disdain for the situation to begin with. There is only so much a mother can do to protect her child and soothe their woes, but this—this it out of her control. Sarnai’s mother is bedridden, a chronic illness that often leaves her so fatigued that she often finds it impossible to get out of bed. Thankfully, there are many maids and servants in the large house mansion that she doesn’t have to worry about her needs and feeling lonely, but Sarnai makes a habit to visit every hour she can. Besides, it’s much better to hang out with her mother than it is to hang out with her father._

_“Yes, mother. I appreciate the help.” Was all Sarnai could say, feeling the rise of anger in her voice as she realized what awaited her at the end of the week._

_Before her mother could respond, a knock came to the door. At the opposite side of the door was Kodama, Sarnai’s newly assigned retainer, with a wide smile on her face._

_“My lady! I’m sorry to interrupt, but I have prepared dinner for you and wanted to serve it to you before I turn in for the evening.” Kodama said, giving a small courtesy as she gestured for Sarnai to come with to be served. Sarnai looked back at her mother, who gave a small nod and a wave, signaling for her daughter to leave as necessary. With a nod she left, joining Kodama as the pair retreated to Sarnai’s room across the hall._

_In the past they ate as a family, but her father’s ever busy schedule made it impossible for the family to eat together at a punctual time. Not that Sarnai let it bother her much as she grew older, becoming more preoccupied with her red mage studies and learning the skills necessary to take up the mantle of the family business. Not to mention Nachin was off with the sekiseigumi and learning how to be a samurai, meaning he came home late often._

_“My lady?”_

_Kodama’s voice broke Sarnai from her always busy mind, a jug of water in her hand. She blinked and looked up at her retainer, then to the jug, then to the table she was seated at. She…wasn’t sure when she sat down, in retrospect. It was like a fog had suddenly rolled in her thoughts and completely dissociated her from reality, until she was forcibly brought back to it. Sarnai winced, pressing a hand to her head as she tried to keep steady conversation with her retainer._

_“Sorry, Kodama. What is it?”_

_Her retained placed the jug on the table in front of her and looked at Sarnai before dispelling her glamour with a clap of her hands. She looks at her lady with a completely different aura—one of more determination and vigor than the happy-go-lucky aura of before._

_“I scouted the naval logs as you requested. I can confirm that there ought to be a few galleons stationed at Pier #2 for us to purchase passage for.” Kodama knelt, head down to the ground with a look of defeat on her face suddenly. “I was not able to see where they would be charting course too, however. We’d have to rely on the dock workers for that info. Apologies, my lady.”_

_But Sarnai was ever a kind soul, despite the gravity of the situation in her life. She gestured for her retainer to meet her gaze, satisfied with the current turn of events._

_“Thank you, Kodama. Knowing that there is a passage out of here is good enough. We will deal with the destination once we get out of here at last.” Sarnai gave a rare smile to Kodama, something the young retainer would treasure until the end of days. It was not often that her lady smiled these days, and to earn one is worth celebrating._

_“You flatter me, my lady. All that remains is to acquire the funds, and we shall be all set to go.” Kodama said, standing up and resting her hands on her hips. “Shall I break into the treasury for you?”_

_Sarnai waved her hands in dismissal._

_“No, no…I’d much rather not cause a scene of such magnitude. I want our exit to be as quiet as possible, and father will definitely notice if his precious treasury was broken into.” She said with an exacerbated sigh. “I have my own private funds that we can use.”_

_“But my lady, would we not need that to survive in the place we depart to…?”_

_“I’m sure we’ll be fine. If we must struggle for a little, then so be it.”_

_Silence fell between the two until a knock came at the door to Sarnai’s room. Instinctively Kodama hid herself, using her ninjutsu to vanish from sight as she retreated to a corner of her lady’s room, knives at the ready. Sarnai called out, letting the guest know they could enter. At the opposite side of the door was Khorijin, Sarnai’s old retainer._

_“Khorijin…what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” She asked, trying to keep a still face as she looked at him. There were many people she would expect at this hour, but he was most certainly not one of them._

_He stepped into the room with a slow pace, not saying anything until he was by Sarnai’s side at the table. Without missing a beat, he turned to look back into the room, speaking in that confident and gallant voice of his._

_“Kodama, I know you’re there. This concerns you too.”_

_Kodama gasped and dispelled her ninjutsu, keeping her knives pointed directly at Khorijin with violence in mind._

_“How did you know I was there? No mere servant should be able to detect my presence!”_

_“I could hear you talking from the other side of the door, it’s easy to put two and two together.”_

_Kodama’s eyes widened in shock. She gripped her knives harder and inched towards Khorojin, preparing to strike at a moment’s notice._

_“In that case, then surely you won’t mind if I knock you upside your head for a few hours?”_

_Sarnai stood in front of her retainers, trying to stop the sudden hostility between the pair._

_“Kodama, put your knives away, we can talk this out.” She put her hands on her retainers shoulders, gently pushing her back with determination. Kodama relented eventually, putting her daggers back into their holsters on her sides. The Raen stared back at Khorijin with malicious intent, however, not trusting the man for a second._

_With her retainers no longer at each other’s throats for the moment, Sarnai turned to look at the new guest in her room and spoke to him as calmly as possible._

_“Khorijin, why are you here? You’re no longer my retainer, you know.”_

_He closed his eyes for a second, rubbing his chin as he considered the question. It was obvious however that there wasn’t a need for him to consider the question, and Kodama was about ready to pounce on him for wasting their time. But thankfully, he finally spoke after a few minutes of obnoxious contemplation._

_“My lady, I would like to accompany you on your voyage out of Kugane.”_

_A stunned silence hit both Kodama and Sarnai, who looked at the man in front of them with widened stares._

_“And why should we allow you to join us? The fact you know about our plans is enough for me to—”_

_Kodama’s anger was subsided my Sarnai’s voice, infinitely more calmer and less murderous than yours._

_“…I’m going to assume you know the reality of our plan?”_

_“Apologies, my lady. I overheard it all from the other side of the door. I simply…pieced it together considering the current situation.”_

_At least Khorijin was honest, if a bit blunt._

_“Why do you…want to help us then?” Sarnai asked, trying to keep the conversation going lest Kodama sees an opportunity to stab Khorijin in the gut. She could just feel the murderous aura from where she stood._

_“Simple, really. You need more funds, and I can provide it.” He gives a bow to punctuate the sentence. “All I ask in return is that you allow me to accompany you across the waters, and to continue providing help as your retainer.”_

_Before Sarnai had even a moment to consider the request, Kodama interjected._

_“Sounds like extortion!” She said through gritted teeth. “My lady, I don’t like his plan one bit.”_

_Khorijin shrugged, completely unfazed by Kodama’s attitude. He simply turned towards the door, seemingly done with the conversation at hand._

_“It matters not what you think, Kodama.” He said calmly, much to Kodama’s chagrin. “My only interest lies in our lady here—she is the only opinion that I’ve ever cared for.”_

_Sarnai would blush at the compliment if her current life wasn’t slowly falling apart in front of her. She sighed, knowing that she would have to give Khorijin an answer before the end of the week. She would hate to owe favors to someone, especially when she was already at wits end with all the work needed to do before she departed from Kugane._

_She had a feeling in her gut she would have no choice but to accept Khorijin’s offer, despite all the questions in her head about where the money would be coming from, and exactly why he wanted to join them. Sarnai’s head hurt, but she grits through the pain and dealt it for now—there was too much work to be done and too little time left. She wanted this more than anything. To live her own life, to just be herself for once, to carve a path of her own hopes and dreams without feeling desperately tied down to something._

_She just wanted to stop feeling so hollow and empty inside._


	21. not here to stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mocha finally arrives back to kugane with rasa and the rest of the scions. under the guise of anonymity, she stumbles upon someone who thought her long gone.

Kugane was a hustling and bustling port town on a complete other level from Limsa Lominsa. It had a far more refined air to it, the people that walked around the piers and the streets seemed to have a measure of… _better_ cleanliness than some of the pirates and other bodies that walked Limsa. Social decorum whiplash knocked a few members of Rasa and the Scions off their feet, a few confused glances and giggles surprised by the rowdy travelers that came to visit their humble city. It was especially tough for Rai’ji, Ludovic, and Bibica, who enjoyed poking fun and making jokes with each other wherever they went—but alas, they played nice for now, hoping that their stint in Kugane would be short as they attempted to plot their next course of action with the Scions.

After meting with Hancock at the local trading company, the team decided to spend a few days in Kugane before moving towards the Ruby Sea to cross into Doma proper—mostly because a few members of Rasa _really_ didn’t want to board a boat after the long ride they just had. Hancock arranged for the Scions and Rasa to meet with the local bodies in Kugane, hoping to form allies within the local community.

It was then that Mocha began to notice shadows and figured in the corner of her eye—fleeting moments of people that vanish within the crowds when her eyes linger on them for too long. For a moment she feels fear, unsure if they are friend or foe. She managed to catch a brief moment of eye contact with one Miqote, flashing a gentle, knowing smile before their body blends and becomes one with the crowd of people around them. Kodama’s network of people—a collection of ninjas from various clans who seem to be keeping their word on watching over Mocha while she’s in Kugane.

She hopes she doesn’t need the protection, returning herself to old habits of keeping her head down, gaze to the floor and only looking and speaking up when she has been asked to speak. Which means she is almost _always_ speaking, her and X’hrie being expect negotiators and often doing the talking when Rasa is to be concerned. Outside of that however, Mocha has tried to keep her mouth as tight lipped as possible, trying to keep herself as unnoticeable as possible. She was on such high alert and anxiety that the little auri was worried that she might los her calm and just have a panic attack at any given moment. This level of uncomfortableness was absolute _hell_.

At the very least Ludovic’s wonderful intuition was working at full alert, tossing an arm either around Mocha’s shoulders or taking hold of her hand in his. This small gesture of affection and warmth was probably one of the few things holding Mocha together right now as Rasa walked along Kugane towards the Sekiseigumi barracks. Mocha could feel the overwhelming fear in her body cause her to tense up against Ludovic, in turn causing him to squeeze her shoulder affectionately as a reminder that he was there with her.

The barracks were far larger than Mocha remembered them being, filled with a few dozen more recruits than she recalled ever seeing too. In a way it warmed her heart to see the Sekiseigumi still standing in Kugane, and for a brief moment she hoped that her brother was still among their ranks—and preferably, very far away from this place.

The commanding officer gave Rasa a tour of the grounds and the barracks, informing X’hrie and Mocha in particular about some of the major players in Kugane, and where to potentially find them. From the corner of her eye she could see Bibica and Ludovic speaking with some of the members training, the pair making pointed gestures at the katanas. She wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to give those two a giant, dangerous blade, but at least X’hrie was nearby for healing.

Mocha parted from the commanding officer and X’hrie to walk around the premises by herself. The sheer magnitude of the barracks and the whole area they resided in was still unimaginable to her, serving as a reminder of just how long it’s been since she’s visited, and how much things have changed in the few years she’s passed. She stopped to look up at Kugane Castle, craning her neck up high to look at the wondrous sight of the castle before her. It brought back memories, a constant backdrop of her days growing up in Kugane, always looking up at it whenever she was a child. She looked out her window in her old home and stared up at it, wondering what kind of people could reside themselves in.

She could hear the approaching sounds of footsteps and turned to look at them, making brief eye contact with an auri who seemed to be making purposeful intent towards her. The sight of him hit her with sudden whiplash, causing her to return her gaze back to the castle. Much to her chagrin, he stood next to her.

“ _Beautiful, isn’t it?_ ” The Au Ra next to Mocha says. The voice all but stops her heart as he speaks at her, Mocha’s eyes widening in fear. She sucks in a breath and answers shakily in a language she hasn’t spoken in years.

“ _It is. I’m always amazed by the beauty of Kugane Castle…no matter how many times I see it, it always takes my breath away._ ”

He inches closer to her as he takes a sideway step, and Mocha can feel the rise of anxiety and fear in her stomach churn away and push against her insides. His voice is hardened, tone distant and weary.

“ _Has it been long since you’ve seen the castle, **Sarnai**?_”

It’s when he says the name that Mocha feels herself losing composure and every intake of air in her lung feels like it’s going to suddenly rupture her lungs and shut her body down. A name forgotten and hated, tossed away and discarded; Mocha has no right to the name, and it has no right being hers.

“ _Yes, it has, **Nachin**._” She croaks out, feeling herself on the verge of tears and anxiety.

She knows her brother is looking at her, moving closer and ready to burst the bubble of safety and comfort that Mocha is known for. She isn’t even sure why she’s on the verge of tears—is it because she has missed her brother dearly? Was it because her brother was a shining light in her life that became a distant stranger as her father pulled her into the life of business, shaping her into something of his own creation? Or was it because Mocha did not know what to expect from this meeting, that stumbling upon him here in the barracks was something she was so unprepared for?

“ _I was right. You still have mother’s eyes, even after all this time_.” He said, continuing to talk in lieu of his sister who was still silent. So that’s what gave it all away, huh? “ _Look at me, I wish to see your face._ ”

He tried to hide the demand as a soft-spoken question, but Mocha was smarter than that—she could hear the anger and confusion in his voice. But his sister knew that if she turned to look at him, she would most certainly cry and would crumble at the sight of him in front of her after all this time. Mocha was great at fooling herself into thinking she was strong-minded and strong-willed when she was about as fragile as glass.

She took a deep breath, steeling herself as best she could and turned to look at her brother for the first time in three years.

There was a moment where all they did was stare at each other, noticing the scars that lined their faces and necks, trying to search for something there that reminded them of their old times together. Mocha did not realize how long three years could be until she looked at Nachin—he looked hardened and sharper, so unlike the bright-eyed little brother she remembered from before she ran away. Whatever flame that flickered in his eyes was all but dim, replaced by steeled and hardened resolve.

“ _What is this…color in your hair? Does its brightness not blind you?_ ” He said, reaching out a hand to touch Mocha, grabbing a lock of her hair without warning. Mocha froze in place, her eyes watching his hand move aggressively and carelessly as if he intended to suddenly rip the color from her hair. She didn’t remember Nachin being _this_ touchy and aggressive.

 _“I…I needed a new hair color, and this was what Kodama suggested…_ ” Mocha replied, standing as still as a statue as she endured Nachin’s aggression. She wished for Ludovic or Bibica to come rescue her, suddenly fearful as the anxiety in her body skyrocketed—she hated to rely on them, hated to ask for help but every part of her body just refused to move, refused to raise a hand to swat away the danger.

Nachin scoffed, finally pulling his hand away from her hair. It was hard to tell if the noise he made was because of Mocha’s reaction or for some other, unknown reason—but it was obvious he wasn’t through with his interrogation, however.

“ _A bright hair color…scars on your face…truly, how far have you fallen, Sarnai?”_

When Mocha went to swallow back her anxiety it felt like a lump of rocks had lodged itself in her throat. She hated that name, wanted nothing to do with it as all it did was bring back bad memories of a life no longer hers.

“ _Please…don’t call me that. My name is…Mocha, now._ ” She begged, looking away in shame. Would he hate this name that she chose, she wonders?

Of course, he did—the anger and fury that seared in his blue eyes pierced Mocha to the core, rendered her full of fear and worry.

“ _And what kind of name is ‘Mocha’!? Would you disrespect the name our mother gave you for some new identity? This name is an insult upon her grave, Sarnai!_ ” He screamed at her without raising his voice, jabbing at her very soul with his words and his righteous fury. Mocha’s name was a curse upon his tongue and he intended to destroy it with his anger, bringing the constant reminder of Mocha’s dead mother to air as a catalyst to break apart Mocha’s well-being and by the Twelve was it working its magic on her.

Nachin stepped closer to Mocha and she instinctively stepped back, trying to keep the arm’s length distance between each other. What stood in front of her could not possibly be her brother, no. Siblings are supposed to bring comfort and joy, not pain and suffering—this must’ve been a sudden nightmare made real, truly.

“ _Nachin…please don’t do this._ ” She can’t deal with this right now, can’t deal with the stress and the anxiety that’s building up in her body and is about ready to pour out of her. She wants to throw up oh so badly.

But her brother will not relent.

“ _You don’t get to call me that. If you won’t accept your **actual** name, then you don’t have a right to call me a brother.” _He says once more, moving closer and closer to her. Nachin feels betrayed—the sister he once loved vanished without a trace and suddenly she’s back in Kugane, saying such hurtful things and betraying the identity she was so lovingly given.

Surely this was a trick of the gods, he thought, reaching his hand out to her as he watched her recoil back. This…can’t possibly be real, right?

* * *

Ludovic didn’t like to baby Mocha or dote her often in public. He knew she was shy and reserved when it came to affection, save for when it was private, but ever since they’ve arrived in Kugane (and hells, even the week before it), she’s been particularly on edge and stressed. She hadn’t been sleeping much, often waking up in the middle of the night or tossing around in bed so often that Ludovic found himself waking up to keep her company, doing what he could to soothe her woes. Mocha never told him why, and all he could imagine was there might’ve been something in the town that gave her bad memories or something, but he never forced the issue on her. She would tell him when she was ready, he assumed.

Of course, everything only seemed to get worse in Kugane, so much so Ludovic instinctively found himself reaching for her, turning his gaze to look at Mocha whenever an opportunity presented itself to make sure she was okay. He grew worried every increasing second, not only because this damn city had so much “rules” and “etiquette” about how to act that Ludovic could give less of a toss about, but also because Mocha looked like she was going to have an anxiety attack any second.

At the very least everyone else was around to help keep her distracted. Be it Bibica asking for translations about the fancy alcohol they found in the stalls, Zeta needing help ordering food, or Rai’ji asking about what he could use these eastern vegetables to make for dinner. She visibly relaxed and calmed down, as long as she wasn’t reminded about the fact she was in Kugane. Ludovic wished he could do more to help, but they were unfortunately stuck in the city proper for a few days to relax, so they had to grin and bear it by the looks of it.

At least the barracks were a nice change of pace, the Sekiseigumi were a lively bunch of men and women wielding katanas in a manner that Ludovic had never seen before. He and Bibica broke from the Rasa group and spoke to a few members that were training, curious and interested in finding out how to get some of their own to use. In Ludovic’s mind he imagined it would be something he could learn to impress Mocha at the very least—if she could wield a rapier with all the skill and grace she does, then imagine how cool he would look swinging a blade of his own!

Ludovic turned from the Sekiseigumi he was talking to, looking around the barracks as he looked to find Mocha. He found her a few yalms from where he was standing, in conversation with an Au Ra he didn’t recognize. He squinted his eyes to get a better look at them and felt something _off_ —he wasn’t sure what it was, but it was enough to make him excuse himself from Bibica and the Sekiseigumi and make his way towards Mocha and the mysterious man. At first he was worried that maybe he was getting worked up for nothing, and babying Mocha once more, but when he saw this random guy just start _reaching_ for her and invading her personal space, well, Ludovic was quite sure this guy maybe deserved a _stern_ talking to—with his fists, of course.

As he got closer, he could hear this man raising his voice, his hand reaching towards Mocha once more. But Ludovic was certainly not going to let his creep touch her once more, grabbing the auri’s wrist in his own hands and gripping tightly against it. The look of bewilderment on the man’s face gave way to fear at the sudden hand on his wrist. He turned to Mocha with a look of anger, but Ludovic made sure to turn the attention to him to save his girlfriend more stress—this fucker just made this _real_ personal.

“Ye touch me lass again an' I be fixin' to snap yer fuckin' 'and in two, lad.” Ludovic said, barring his teeth and giving the man an aggressive glare. The auri spoke at Mocha, keeping his eyes on Ludovic the entire time.

“ _Who is this man!? Tell him to release me at once!_ ” Nachin said, trying to wiggle his way out of Ludovic’s grasp. He didn’t seem to anticipate his strength, fingers tightening and digging into his skin and scales with murderous intent.

Mocha turned to Ludovic, trying to compose herself to speak. It was obvious that she was about one bad moment away from collapsing, however.

“Ludovic…please let him go.” She managed to say. He turned to look at her, utterly confused by the request.

“Ye kiddin' me? This here motherfucker upset ye this here bad, why the 'ell shouldn't I put 'im into the ground as we speak?” Ludovic turned to look at Nachin, wondering if he should just go straight to the arm breaking part of the conversation and just be done with this. However, Mocha was clearly the better half in this relationship, reaching a hand out towards his shoulder in a silent plea.

“This is…my little brother, Ludovic.” She said, voice barely above a whisper now. “Nachin…this is Ludovic, my…boyfriend.”

Nachin stared in wide eye horror at what Mocha said as his hand was freed from the vice grip that was Ludovic Lestrade’s hands. He took a step back, watching the Highlander move towards Mocha, wrapping his arm around her shoulder protectively.

“ _You’re dating…a Hyur…?!_ ” The auri said, recoiling in disgust.

Mocha suddenly felt such shame as she nodded, watching her brother react so violently to something that Mocha holds so dear. She didn’t think she’d feel anything, that she’d be stronger after her adventures in Eorzea, but she was wrong it seems.

“Ye got a fuckin' problem with me, lad?” Ludovic interjected himself into the conversation, knowing that he was suddenly the topic of discussion. “Why don't ye man up an' take it with me instead o' botherin' me Mocha, eh?”

Nachin shook his head, unwilling to give the time of day to this man—which of course, only caused Ludovic to rile up in anger. Fuck the decorum and etiquette of Kugane at this point!

“ _To think you’d stoop so low as to…procreate with such a man…you truly have fallen, Sarnai._ ” Nachin sighed and turned, preparing himself to depart from the conversation. “ _I thought perhaps you could be reasoned with, but it seems your time in Eorzea has changed you in ways that I can’t accept.”_

With a curt shake of his head he began to walk away, content with having the final word. Mocha couldn’t give less of a shit really—she was more than happy to have the nightmare be over, to just leave the barracks and go back to the Bokairo Inn and just hide in her room for the next week. She was about ready to burst, and just needed to just be anywhere but here.

Ludovic, however, was not content with this.

“No ye fuckin’ don’t.” Ludovic grabbed Nachin by the shoulders and tossed him into a wall, gripping tightly of his robes with malicious intent. The auri tried to pry his fingers off of him, but Ludovic’s strength was on a completely other level—he might as well have been trying to pry brick from a wall.

“Unhand me you vile creature!” Nachin cried out, turning to look at his sister in desperation. “Get this man off of me at once!”

“Oh, _now_ ye speak fuckin' common tongue, ye bastard?” Ludovic was going to throttle this man within an inch of his life—he wasn’t going to just let this man walk away after all the trouble he’s caused. It’s one thing to have him talk shit about him to his face; whatever, Ludovic’s been called every insult and every swear in the book. But laying a hand on Mocha? Getting into her comfort zone and making her an anxious mess? No, oh absolutely _not_. This stupid Nachin fellow wasn’t going to leave without a few bruises at the _minimum_.

But of course, Ludovic can’t have his wanton beatdown for the day, the voice of the commanding officer shouting and approaching behind causing the trio to turn around to meet the officer’s gaze. The rest of Rasa followed, concern written all over their faces.

“Nachin, how many times have I told you to respect our visitors! This is the fourth time this week you’ve caused a scene.” Said the officer, crossing his arms with a scowl.

The once haughty and aggressive Nachin seemed to do a complete 180 in personality, a meek aura suddenly shifting and overtaking him as he looked at his officer.

“C-commander, forgive me! This is all just a misunderstanding!”

Ludovic dropped the auri onto the dirt with a thud, suddenly not caring about the kid’s wellbeing. He moved over to Mocha instead, putting his arm around her waist and leading her towards Rasa. She was surrounded by her friends, each one reaching out to her and making sure she was okay—it was overwhelming at first, but it helped distract her mind with the endless chorus of their voices filling her head.

She looked back to Nachin, watching him getting chewed out by the officer. Their eyes met for one last time and the hatred came back in full force until Ludovic gentle pulled her away and broke the contact. Mocha felt like she’d been throttled herself, and was eager to just leave Kugane proper, not wanting to overstay her welcome here much longer.

If that meeting with Nachin taught her anything, it was that there was nothing here for her in Kugane. Not her old life, her old family, her old name—nothing here was meant for her ever again.


	22. pillow talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mocha and ludovic have a moment to themselves the night before their trip to the ruby sea.
> 
> [ the first few paragraphs are a bit nsfw, as a word of warning ]

Ludovic kissed the top of Mocha’s head and laughed at the sight of her collapsed on top of him. She tried too hard to impress him as always, which resulted in the little auri tiring herself out from, well, _a lot_ of overstimulation. Mocha stirred back to life slowly, propping herself up with her arms against the bed, lifting her gaze up to look at him with that little pout of hers that he loves so much.

“D-don’t tease me, Vic…” She whispered before collapsing yet again. Ludovic ran his hand through her hair gently, smiling down at her once more.

“Ye know, I don't think ye was sayin' that earlier...” He said _very_ smugly, laughing in pain as Mocha reached up to pinch his cheek—he deserved that, but at least he was right!

It was their last day resting in Kugane before they departed for the Ruby Sea, and it proved to be the coldest day in fall. Harsh, cold winds whipped and slapped against the city, making it a poor day to go around and properly explore the city. Rasa went out to have dinner together at the very least, wanting to try more of the local restaurants in the city before returning to their inns and resting for the rest of the evening. Most of them still weren’t happy about the prospect of having to get out into the open sea again but accepted their faith with a resigned sigh.

So of course, when they were back in their room, Ludovic had a _great_ idea about how to warm each other up, Mocha was far too cold to disagree. It _had_ been a while since they had any private time, and since she runs cold, having his warm body close to hers would be nice. Mocha kept trying to justify it in her head as he dipped down to kiss her, his hands moving from her face and down her body and leaving heated touches that set her body ablaze.

Truth be told, she enjoyed letting go and allowing Ludovic to have the reigns over her, to not have to think about anything except him and the rush of ecstasy and pleasure coursing through her body every second. _But_ she didn’t want him to be the only one doing all the work today, always liking to have some measure of control in everything she does. Mocha wasn’t sure where this sudden idea came from, but the cheeky grin Ludovic gave as he watched her straddle him gave Mocha some degree of confidence, as she eased herself down onto him and taking the length of him inside her.

And Ludovic _loved_ to hold tightly of her hips, watching with glee as she bit her lips, her hitched breath and small gasps growing louder and higher as he set the pace, pivoting his hips up to push deep inside her—just the way she liked it. Yes, he should be _far_ more gentlemanly about this when she’s being so cute and confident, but sometimes he cant just help but give her a little reward for trying to take the reigns (if only for a moment). Ludovic kept his hands on her, moving and skirting across her skin as he worked her body and touched her in all the places that made Mocha moan the loudest.

And as to be expected after a while of much needed fooling around she’s completely exhausted, fulfilled, and sore from the gentle torture Ludovic likes to subject her to. She loved the feeling of resting her head on his chest, feeling the soft beating of his heart pulse across her horns, the sound of it putting her at ease and lulling her to sleep. Kugane had just been a perpetual point of stress since she’s been here, and this small retreat from the world outside was nice. She knows she shouldn’t rely solely on Ludovic and Rasa for happiness and distractions, but the reality was that they _were_ keeping her sane here.

The distant rumbling of thunder momentarily jolts her awake, hearing Ludovic chuckle underneath her.

“Ye can go aft to sleep if ye need to, babe.” He says, kissing the top of her head again. She grumbles out something that sounds like disagreement and rolls off of him, moving onto the bed proper and grabbing hold of a pillow between her arms.

“Was I out for long?” She mumbles. Ludovic adjusts the covers over them and turns to look at her.

“Nah, like five minutes at most.”

Mocha grumbles and stretches, letting out what sounds like a purr, much to Ludovic’s bemusement.

“What, ye be a little Miqote now?” He said, running his hand beneath the sheets towards her tail, gently playing with it and causing Mocha to giggle.

“H-hey, you _know_ I’m sensitive there!”

“Which be exactly why I be botherin' ye like this.”

Mocha rolled her eyes and did what she did best—reach out to Ludovic and give him a gentle pinch on the cheek. With a smile he reached out to her, putting his hands on her hips as he slowly pulled her closer to him. They could hear the slow stream of rain outside the inn’s window, steadily growing stronger as the wind carried the water across the city, the pitter-patter of rain washing the pair over with a sense of calm once more. A small frown tugged at Ludovic’s face, thoughts preoccupied with something as Mocha slowly drifted off to sleep.

He knows he shouldn’t ask about that stupid Au Ra from the other day since he doesn’t want to stress Mocha out again. But he also knows that if he catches that kid causing trouble again Ludovic might toss some well deserved hands around. Despite his usual instincts he decides to just open his mouth and begins speaking.

“Ye know… I've been meanin' to ask ye about the other day.” Ludovic said. He could feel Mocha tense up suddenly, before calming herself down a little. “I 'eard that lad call ye somethin' that there didn’t sound like ‘Mocha’”

“…I was…hoping you wouldn’t catch that.” She admitted, averting her gaze from his.

“I know it not be me business but...I take it that be yer birth name?”

Mocha nodded, eyes preoccupied with the loose strand of thread from the covers.

“Does it...mean anythin’?”

She nodded once more—it had been a while since she thought about her birth name so much, it felt like she had dusted off an old relic from the back of her mind and brought the full attention of it to light.

“It’s nothing really special…just means ‘rose’.” To Mocha the name no longer held any significance, all meaning behind the name lost and scattered the second she had departed for Eorzea. It meant something once of course, in an old life where she still had a family and a place to call her own here in Kugane; that time was long gone now, of course.

“Ye say that, but I think it be kinda cute.” Ludovic said, cupping her cheek and running his thumb across her scales. It was odd, for Mocha to think of her birth name as something… _positive_. She knew Ludovic meant it too, as if he was trying to bring a moment of life back to her name.

But that could just be wishful thinking on Mocha’s part—in a part of her buried in one of her many levels of secrecy and control. To want to reclaim something once held dear and precious. Surely, surely.

“Does…your name mean anything?” She asks in return.

Ludovic laughs and turns onto his back, folding his hands behind his head and stares straight up at the ceiling.

“It be the name o' some fake Elezen twat from a novel I took from a book I found at the Carline Canopy.” He said it casually as if it was an everyday occurrence, and considering the auri he was dating it might as well have been one. Mocha had at least surmised that it was a bit odd for a Highlander to have such a formal name like the one Ludovic had, and for some reason it brought her a measure of joy to know they both had alias and names of their own choosing.

“Did you…have a birth name?” She asked, watching Ludovic intently. He nodded, face unchanged and somehow sounded disinterested in the whole affair of his past.

“Nah. Ran with a gang in Pearl Lane in Ul'dah an' the bastards just called me whatever the 'ell they wanted. Not that there it matters much now—pretty sure 'alf o' em be dead.” He turned to look at her with a smile on his face. “Besides, gotten used to me name an' all the nicknames ye an' the Rasa lot like to give me.”

Mocha smiled—she was glad to know that Ludovic had at least found comfort in the name he chose for himself.

The sound of thunder outside caused Mocha to jolt, a perfect excuse for Ludovic to pull her back into his arms and into the warm comfort of his embrace. She couldn’t help but giggle, not used to him being to obnoxiously attentive to her. She rewarded his kind diligence to her with a kiss on the cheek, while he in turn kissed the top of her head once more as he moved his hands up and down her back.

“Do ye...'ate yer name?” He asked. It brought him a measure of joy to see feel no change in her, glad to know he wouldn’t have to work out the knots of stress and tense muscles out of her body. Mocha bit her lip, unsure about how to answer him.

“I don’t… _hate it_ , but it just doesn’t…” She begins, each word from her mouth unsure, as if she herself can’t commit to the truth of what she’s telling Ludovic. “It reminds me of an old life. It doesn’t…speak to the life that I’m living now, you know?”

Ludovic nodded, listening to Mocha as she continued talking, spilling what he assumes are held back thoughts that she never had a chance to come to terms with until now.

“That there why yer brother been throwin' a fit or something?”

“Yes…my mother named me after her favorite flower. To have thrown it away, so to speak, for a new name and identity was…a betrayal to him. Nachin was never so…brutal, and awful. I’m sure he was feeling as anxious as I was in that moment and made rash decisions.”

Mocha looked down, suddenly feeling a wave of shame going through her. Ludovic reached down to cup her cheek, tilting her head up to look her in the eyes.

“I be bad at this here kinda stuff, but I can tell ye that there a name be what ye make o' it.” He moves his thumb across her scales, tracing along the intricate detailing. “It be a chance to start a new life, an' to be yer own person an' make a story o' yer own volition.”

Ludovic gave a smile to Mocha, unsure if any of the words he was saying to her were working their magic. He doesn’t have the finesse and the way with words as she and X’hrie did, but he liked to think he could give a good little pick-me-up when necessary. The smile Mocha gave him seemed to be an answer in of itself—and he was never one to turn down one of her smiles.

“I…appreciate that. Thank you, Vic.” She said, placing her hand against his and intertwining their fingers together. If only he could get her to call him _more_ nicknames in public.

“Ye know, it probably ain't the solution but...” Ludovic said, the gears in his head suddenly turning. “If ye want, I can try callin' ye by Sarnai privately.”

Mocha was taken aback by the comment, surprised he would even… _suggest_ such a thing. Her immediate response wasn’t no, all things considered. It was more like—

“Um…why would you do this for me?” Was it too callous of a response? She wasn’t…somehow, against all odds and all known habits, not completely opposed to Ludovic’s plan.

“Ye sound like...ye kind o' want the name to 'ave meanin' again.” He said with a shrug. “Reason I be doin' this cause I don't want somethin' that ye obviously 'old dear be somethin' ye 'ate an' lose fore'er.”

Mocha was stunned, unable to speak in the heat of the moment. To have her birth name be something worth thinking about, to have it bring good memories instead of something horrific and anxiety inducing—was that…something even possible? Is that something Mocha was even worthy of? Her silence worried Ludovic a bit, who reached up to tussle her hair and helped snap her out of her overthinking habits.

“An' obviously if ye be upset about it, then I got to do what I can to make ye 'appy!” He said, giving Mocha that cocky grin of his. The smile worked wonders on her nerves as it always did, making her smile and laugh and just feel oh so comfortable. She reached towards him and embraced him, bonking her head against him, and accidentally scratching the tips of her horns against Ludovic’s neck.

“Ow—‘ey! This here be 'ow ye thank me, Sarnai?” He said with a laugh, poking Mocha on the nose in mock anger.

There was a beat that followed as Mocha heard her birth name. Ludovic made it sound so _nice_ , so…warm, and loved. It didn’t sound like a curse or a name that was meant to be thrown away and forgotten, no, not at all.

It sounded like a name worth remembering, like something worth loving.


	23. use me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second fight with Zenos proved to be a small breaking point for the team. How long can they keep up the will to fight?

It was a bad idea. X’hrie and Mocha voiced their concerns to Yugiri, telling her that attempting to assassinate Zenos on her own would be the death of her and everyone else. As much as Rasa and the Scions hated to admit, they were in no position to fight him—they were, unfortunately, not yet strong enough to face whatever sort of… _man_ Zenos was. Ludovic and Rai’ji said they had Yugiri’s back and were willing to fight alongside the auri to take out that man so she wouldn’t have to do it alone, much to X’hrie’s dismay. There was arguing from both sides, both at an impasse about how to proceed and what to do with the prince now that he was in Doma. They’ve come too far with hopes to fan the flames of rebellion, having toppled a damned _primal_ of all things while they were at is as well.

But ultimately, X’hrie and Mocha had the final word of things, and they commanded the retreat to the Doman Liberation Front headquarters to rest and to figure out their next steps. They already had to contend with Yotsuyu and her abuse of the Domans—they could not afford to face the ire of Zenos now.

Of course, not everyone heeds X’hrie and Mocha’s words.

In the middle of the night Mocha was jolted awake by a very nervous X’hrie, her Miqo’te companion worse for wear and dressed in her battle outfit.

“W-what’s wrong…?” Mocha asked, trying to wipe the sleep out of her eyes as X’hrie passed her battle uniform to her.

“Rai’ji Ludovic, and Yugiri are missing!” X’hrie looks like she’s five seconds away from snapping her cane in half. “Those knuckleheads…I told them _not_ to chase after Zenos, and they sneak out anyway…!”

The gravity of the situation hits Mocha like a brick and she scrambles into her clothing proper. After what happened at Rhalgr’s Reach she knew that tensions were high, and there would be animosity towards Zenos—but that doesn’t mean they ought to put their lives at risk like this! The pair woke rest of their team and made a mad dash into Yanxia, scouring the lands to try and figure out where their friends could have run off too.

Mocha looked down at her bracelet, four job stones embedded in the golden metal around her wrist. Her finger immediately went towards her trusty red mage stone, but somehow lingered on the surface, almost as if it were afraid to actually _press down_ on the button and go with what she knows best. Instead, her fingers found themselves rotating the bracelet until the pitch-black view of her dark knight stone was facing her. She had greatly hesitated to enter this form after the scolding X’hrie gave her during her first foray.

But Mocha was stronger now, more… _capable_ ; at least she hoped so.

She swallowed hard and pressed the job stone into the bracelet, feeling the warm embrace of the dark arts course itself through her body. X’hrie turned around and looked at Mocha, eyes widened in a mix of anger and fear at the sight the auri's darkened, pitch black armor enveloping itself around her.

“Mocha…” She began, wearily stepping closer to her companion. “Are you…sure this is what you want to do?”

The nod Mocha gave X’hrie gave her some sense of relief—at the very least it looked like her companion was still there, as opposed to before where it felt like she was talking to a monster who could only answer with bloodshed.

“I’ll be okay…I should be in control enough to make sure we get everyone out safely.” Mocha raised her gaze to look up at X’hrie. She could feel her own fire burning in their exchange, reaching out towards her friend in a desperate attempt to affirm her resolve in this situation. If Mocha kept that measure of control she always had, as long as she kept her resolve and want to make sure her friends stay safe, she can hold out.

* * *

Rai’ji and Ludovic couldn’t believe how casually Zenos was blocking and deflecting their blows. Whenever they thought they had the advantage he’d suddenly whip his sword at them and summon forth a swing of such vigor that rips the wind between them, staggering the pair as they struggled to find a way to overwhelm the beast in front of them. Ludovic was an expert marksman and all his shots just seemed to miss their mark no matter how fucking hard he tried. Meanwhile, Rai’ji’s saving grace was his immense flexibility and speed that kept him from the brunt of Zenos attacks.

“Vic, we gotta do something quick.” Rai’ji said after the pair were pushed back by yet another attack, the two of them bouncing back a few yalms to put distance between them and the prince. “We can’t keep this shit up forever!”

“Aye, I fuckin’ know that!” Ludovic grit his teeth and stared back at Zenos, heaving himself back up into a more straightened posture. “This shite be getting’ on me nerves. Bastard ‘asn’t budged at all.”

Zenos made a casual affair of approaching them, stepping forward with smooth, slow steps. Ludovic raised his musketoon towards Zenos, steadying his aim despite the slow rise of weariness in his body. Rai’ji sighed and raised his fists, equally as tired and unsure of how long he could last.

Then, just like that, Zenos turned, raising his sword up by the sudden appearance of a greatsword clashing down towards him, the immense impact pushing him back a few paces. Rai’ji and Ludovic snapped to attention at the sight of their friends arriving to the rescue, a collective sigh rushing out of their mouths. A violent dark abyss of purple and black magic swirled around Mocha as she began her relentless assault on the prince, putting her all in every curt swing of the sword. Despite the nonchalant attitude of the man, it was obvious that Zenos was slightly wavering underneath the unprecedented event—it was one thing to handle two people without much in terms of defense, but Mocha was like a battering ram driving on the high of bloody, murderous intent.

With one fell swoop he pushed himself back a few fulms, desperate for even a quarter of space. He planted his foot on the ground and tightened his grip on his sword before sending a wave of red necrotic energy towards Mocha. The little auri flinched for a moment, not anticipating the sudden attack. She braced her sword in front of her, flattening the palm of her hand against it as she took a more defensive posture; the least she could do was try to deflect some of it. As the energy rushed towards her, a bright white light clouded her vision as a shield manifested in front of her, blasting the blow around the dome that enveloped her. Mocha turned to face a very angry X’hrie, with Zeta and Bibica trailing just an arm’s length away.

“Damn it, Mocha! I told you to _wait_ while these two caught up with us!” She said through gritted teeth, hands pressed tightly around her staff that she used to concentrate the barrier around the four of them. That blasted job stone of Mocha’s just brought out the worst in her.

“I-I know! I’m sorry, I just—” Mocha started, trying to come up with an excuse that wasn’t just ‘I got very impatient.’

Zeta stepped between the two, trying to ease the already tense airs with his usual calm demeanor.

“I think we have bigger things to worry about.”

And with that, he tossed his lance towards Zenos, only to have the man ricochet the weapon back with his blade, tossing it up towards the skies in a dramatic fashion. But Zeta was used to having to do his _own_ dramatic air flips, and this was far from anything he hadn’t seen before. He jumped out and reached for his spear before diving back down towards the prince. Zenos smiled; he hadn’t anticipated having to fight more of Rasa considering how pitiable they were back at Rhalgr’s Reach, but it seemed they had gotten stronger since their last fight—much, much stronger.

Their weapons collided, Zenos holding his ground as Zeta balanced himself perfectly above him, pushing his spear with gusto against the Hyur beneath him. The prince flinched, the weight of his enemy forcing his blade to inch closer and closer to his face. He tried to slide his hand further towards the tip of his sword, hoping one aggressive push would bounce Zeta off him, when out of nowhere came the aggressive might of everyone’s favorite Lalafell, Bibica, a large shuriken ramming itself full force against Zenos’ stomach. The prince was pushed back, causing Zeta to implant his spear in the ground. With graceful movements Zeta counterbalanced his weight against the back of his spear and flipped off it. He reached for his weapon and once more tossed it at Zenos, using the momentum of the adrenaline to push him forward with Bibica right behind.

“I’m glad to see you’ve all gotten much stronger since our last fight.” The prince said casually, using powerful swings to reflect and push back Zeta and Bibica, the two of them flying back a few yalms to distance themselves from the sword Zenos wielded.

Mocha made her move amidst their momentary retreat, sending forth a malevolent ball of dark energy towards Zenos, catching his attention and that smug smile that made her stomach turn. Their blades clashed with a loud, ear piercing noise, both of them pushing against each other in a desperate attempt to get the other to submit.

“And I see _you_ have finally learned how to wield a proper blade.” Zenos spoke once more to Mocha, their gazes finally meeting. He was absolutely delighted to see a seething rage of disgust and hatred in her eyes, as a familiar cloud of black magic swirled around her armor as she stood her ground.

“You don’t get the privilege to talk to me, you Garlean dog!” She yelled back, pushing him back from her, as a wide eyed Zenos was caught off guard by a sudden boot to the stomach from the very angry auri.

Rai’ji swooped in, using the moment to pelt Zenos with a flurry of punches that began to dent his armor. As Zenos attempted to swat Rai’ji back, Ludovic took the advantage, sending forth one powerful blast of his power drill, aiming it directly at the softened armor his Miqote companion had left wide open from his punches.

It was then that Zenos realized that their strength lied in their unity together. Zeta and Bibica moved with delicate coexistence, spears and knives pointed at him with perfectly timed precision and movements that caught him off guard more than once. Despite his original analysis of Rai’ji and Ludovic there was a… _jagged_ unity to their approach of attack—Ludovic had picture perfect aim and no matter how often he shot, he knew that Rai’ji would dodge and weave from every bullet, the hailstorm of compressed aether brushing past him like nothing. That left Mocha and X’hrie—the wild and unkept beast of a dark knight whose aggressive display of protectiveness was reigned in by a healer who had her own obsession with keeping the flock safe; a shepherd and its sheep.

Yes, yes; they were strongest _together_!

He was pushed back by the group, for once staggering from their collective affront. Zenos straightened his posture and smiled.

“I’m impressed, it has been quite some time since I experienced any sort of fun from my fights.” Zenos said, returning the sword he held back to the large holster on his waist. “But this can’t be the _real_ extent of your collective power, is it?”

The six of them stared at him, grips tight on their weapons in anticipation of what he had under his sleeve this time. They watched as the sword returned to its proper place, clicking into it like a gear snapping perfectly into a machine. A weight suddenly bore itself into everyone’s shoulders, a creeping rise of dread suddenly in their heads as X’hrie and Mocha exchanged panic glances. Mocha dug her greatsword into the ground as a pitch black abyss began to envelope itself around her friends, X’hrie supporting the group with a powerful blessing from her own energy.

But somehow, _of course_ —

Zenos burst towards them with an almost impossible speed, drawing forth a new blade aimed squarely at X’hrie. There was barely time to react as Mocha quickly shifted her own gears, moving in front of her companion as the glint of Zenos’ sword was shining merely a few fulms in front of her. She was the only one who could take the brunt of the attack in the moment, the swirling abyss of familiar darkness empowering her as she attempted to shield herself from the force of the attack.

A high-pitched ringing from the clash of their blades echoes in Mocha’s sensitive horns, the sound having tremendous weight and agony to is as she attempted to hold back this vile man from her friends.

“G-go back to the headquarters!” She begged, trying to keep a tight grip to the dark arts as she tried to keep herself from falling over backwards from Zenos' push against her. It felt like any second now her greatsword would slice in two and her death would be all but imminent, the weight of this man’s energy somehow far too overwhelming. Was this the price she was to pay for her negligence in training?

His strength was _staggering_ , force unrelenting against her as he began to forcibly push her back against the group. Mocha could hear what sounded like a curse from X’hrie before feeling the cold, metallic weight of a surface against her back, forcing her to stand up straight.

“I’ve got you!” X’hrie screamed out, a sudden flash of white light enveloping Mocha as a cascade of shields descended from the skies, forcing Zenos back from the group.

The prince smiled, watching both women attempt to chase after him with their blades drawn. X’hrie tossed her shield towards Zenos, only to have him nonchalantly shrug it off with a lazy swing of his blade, the force of the impact ricocheting back towards X’hrie with such violent force to her stomach, knocking her off her feet and onto the ground in pain. Mocha ran towards her friend, kneeling down and looking over a now writhing X’hrie.

“Get stronger, Tabula Rasa.” Zenos commanded, his voice lifting in the air as he placed his sword back into the sheath. He turned and walked away from the group, ending the fight as the rest of the Rasa members ran towards Mocha and X’hrie. “You’re almost to the pinnacle of power, of strength. I eagerly await to see just how strong all of you get to become.” 

He turned to look at the six of them with that disgusting smile of his before "retreating", leaving Rasa to scramble back towards the Liberation Headquarters. They were filled with a sense of defeat and dread, hatred in their veins as they were once again defeated by the hands of this Garlean beast.

* * *

X’hrie pinched the bridge of her nose, sliding in her seat at the small dining table in the Liberation Headquarters. There was a heavy silence that filled the room they were in as everyone’s wounds were tended to. Zeta was serving tea to everyone, save for Rai’ji and Ludovic, waving off the offering in lieu of splattering themselves on their respective couches. Mocha was seated two seats away from X’hrie, lost in deep thought as she was writing something on a piece of paper. Seated next to her was Bibica, sleeping soundly and wrapped in a blanket that Zeta had brought for her.

Everyone wore a familiar sense of weariness and exhaustion—even X’hrie had to admit that she was getting tired of this runaround, but as Rasa’s leader, all she could do was coordinate their efforts and aim to win. And the little rescue event of earlier was _certainly_ not part of her well-planned coordinated attacks. She gently placed a hand on her stomach, gritting her teeth and sucking in a breath from the still lingering pain of the bruise from her shield still there.

Was it worth disrupting the silence to scold them when they knew she was right? That they could’ve just listened to her for once and just stayed home without having to risk their lives for something doomed to fail? She had to admire their tenacity at the very least, appreciating the fact that at least Yugiri was still alive and it was because of Ludovic and Rai’ji. But _still!_ Did they have to give her at least 10 different heart attacks in doing so?

“Look, if ye be mad at us, just say it already.” Ludovic said, breaking X’hrie out of her thoughts. She turned her gaze over to him on the couch, eyebrows furrowed in mild anger.

“I don’t think I need to make my fury known once more.” X’hrie moved from her seat, slowly walking around the table and leaning against it as she turned to face the group proper. “You _know_ what you did was stupid, and I don’t’ think I need to rub salt into the wound further.”

They didn’t need more fighting when things were already tense enough as is. Rasa had found themselves jumping from the fires of Ishgard’s plight to one on the opposite side of the world they lived in—a moment of peace was welled earned at this point. They did it all for the sake of the Scions and for the people they cared about in Eorzea, but at some point, the consistent running around was going to burn them out. The few weeks of rest they got before shit inevitably goes up in flames wasn’t enough.

X’hrie was starting to wonder if Rai’ji and Ludovic’s intentions were not to only just keep Yugiri safe, but to just get this all over with already.

“Look…” X’hrie started, using that commanding voice she uses when she’s about to give an order. “I already have to worry about Y’shtola recovering from the destruction at Rhalgr’s Reach. Don’t let that Garlean bastard try to take something else from me—not just for Vic and Rai’ji, but for _all_ of you. So long as the Scions desperately need our help, I can’t have any of you guys taking stupid risks like that _again_.”

And now it was Rai’ji’s time to shoot up, lifting his body from the comforts of the pillow that he was resting his head on.

“But X’hrie, even you gotta admit this shit is getting _really_ tiring! You saw how hard we fought against Zenos, and it took all of us to even put a scratch on him!” He said, his usual impassioned way of speaking getting him worked up as usual. “Even then, he got out another fucking sword and could have taken out you and Mocha!”

“And chasing the enemy blindly isn’t going to help anyone!” X’hrie slammed her foot on the floor, causing Rai’ji to angrily pout in response. “We need _plans_! We already have too much on our plate as is—we don’t even have everyone here!”

“Well _maybe_ we shouldn’t listen to everything the Scions say and split ourselves up to make things easier!” Rai’ji said with a frown, crossing his legs and propping his elbows on his knees.

Serina and Alena were currently occupied in the Azim Steppes with Thancred, Alisaie and Hien, trying to unite and recruit the Xaela tribes that reside there. The loss of their expert summoner and black mage left a hampering in their already small free company; Rasa wasn’t used to having such small numbers, and it showed in the fight earlier with Zenos. X’hrie sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose again.

“We don’t have the privilege of being together all the time. We _must_ spread ourselves thin, Rai’ji. We have _two_ _fucking wars to win_!” X’hrie was raising her voice now, the obvious anger from weeks of repressed stress suddenly tipping over and out into the room they were in. She wasn’t one to swear either, really driving home to the rest of Rasa that their leader was at her wits end.

It was obvious that Rai’ji was quietly seething, biting his tongue back to prevent himself from talking back. Both sides were right: Rasa had devoted themselves entirely to serving with the Scions since their adventures in Eorzea, going with them through some of the toughest fights of their lives. Together, the eight of them have formed strong bonds and friendships, each of them willing to face the depths of hell side by side.

But they were all so _tired_. They all tried to hide it, tried to trudge through their duty here in the east but by the Twelve, they all just wanted to be done with this. Rai’ji knew it, X’hrie most certainly knew it, but admitting that even one of them had lost their steam would be enough to start a downhill slope of defeat amongst everyone. They had to be strong, despite the odds and despite the heavy burden on their shoulders.

With an aggravated sigh X’hrie waved her hand, a way of dismissing everyone to their respective rooms for the evening before her anger got the best of her. Everyone, except—

“Mocha.” X’hrie said, catching the poor auri off guard as she and Ludovic walked together out of the room. “I need to borrow you for a second before you go to sleep.”

Her companion shuffled awkwardly towards her. Mocha was many things, but as someone who was X’hrie’s right hand woman it meant she could never say no to the call of work—despite knowing that she _was_ allowed to say no every now and then.

“Is everything alright?” Mocha asked, an awkward shyness to her question.

“We need to check in with the rest of the Scions to let them know we encountered Zenos. I’m sure they’ll want to know how much of a threat he still is. We also, of course, just need to check in with the progress of the tribes back in the Steppes.”

Had Mocha just said no, X’hrie would have happily let her rest for the evening.

“…Of course, I’ll be happy to help.”

But Mocha wasn’t one to say no, despite the sigh that Ludovic let out. He walked over to Mocha and kissed the top of her head, murmuring something against her horns that X’hrie couldn’t hear before walking back towards their room.

X’hrie let out a sigh as Mocha walked towards her side, both of them talking over the events of the day as they rang up their comrades on their linkpearls, bracing themselves for yet another, long night.


End file.
